


Crazy Love

by Kit_Kat21



Series: (More than) Just a Dream [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childbirth, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Parenthood, Relationship Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-12-25 09:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: “And if he came back? What if he showed up here today, at your party, and begged you to take him back?” He was aware of how vulnerable he sounded in that moment and he was glad that Sansa was the only one around who could hear it.xxA mix of the modern world and an old-fashioned world.





	1. Graduation

…

“Ah! My eyes!” Bran’s dramatic screech rang out from the bottom of the stairs. 

Jon yanked his lips away from Sansa’s and turning, he grabbed a pillow from the sofa and chucked it at Bran. “Get out of here,” he frowned at him and Bran just laughed. 

“Sansa, mom wanted me to get you. She’s about to wheel out the cake.”

“Alright,” Sansa nodded and obediently sat up, beginning to straighten her hair and her dress. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

“And Jon, you should feel lucky that I’m the one that came down here. Mom almost sent Robb and you know how that would have gone,” Bran informed him, chucking the pillow back towards his head, before he turned and hurried back up the basement stairs. 

“How would that have gone?” Jon asked, doing his best to sound innocent and oblivious, and Sansa couldn’t help, but laugh before leaning back into him and kissing him once more. 

She knew it was a poor decision. It was her party upstairs, after all, and she had been down here with Jon long enough. She couldn’t be so rude to her guests, who had come to the Stark home that afternoon in helping celebrate Sansa’s graduation from Winterfell University with her degree in Primary Education. 

She couldn’t very well spend her entire party down in the basement, making out with her boyfriend – even if it was exactly how she wished to spend the day. 

Her parents raised her better than that though. Sansa didn’t have it in herself to be a bad hostess. 

“Jon,” she murmured, her hands going to his chest as if to push herself off of him, but instead, she seemed to melt on top of him, her fingers creeping upward to his head. “I have to go upstairs,” she said, not lifting her lips from his to do so. 

“Alright then. Let’s go upstairs,” Jon mumbled against her lips and Sansa would have laughed if Jon hadn’t chosen that second to lower her down onto her back, across the sofa, his body above hers. 

Their kiss deepened and Sansa moaned into his mouth, her fingers curling around his biceps as he held his body above hers so he wasn’t completely crushing her. This wasn’t the first time they had found themselves sprawled on a sofa. Or his bed. Or her bed. And each time, Sansa had told him that she didn’t mind feeling his weight pressed down on top of hers, but really, Jon held himself up more for him. 

In the two months since he first kissed her outside of that pub in Deepwood Motte, they had already kissed far too many times for him to keep count. He and his dog, Ghost, have even developed the habit of going over to her cottage at least three times a week to sleep over. She and her dog, Lady, had come to his flat for one sleepover, but he made it no secret that he preferred the coziness of her home to the bareness and slight coldness of his own flat. He had been living there for nearly four years now and it wasn’t much of a home. That was for sure. He had the necessities, but nothing more than that. 

He had been sitting on Sansa’s sofa one evening, watching the football match on the television, and a commercial for hot chocolate had come on. He made a passing comment that he hadn’t had hot chocolate forever and the next thing he knew, Sansa was passing him a mug with steam swirling into his face and he saw that she had made him hot chocolate and there were even tiny marshmallows floating at the top. He had looked at it as if he didn’t understand the sight and then looked to her as she sat down beside him, blowing gently into her own mug. 

“You just happened to have hot chocolate and marshmallows in the cupboard?” He asked her as if he had never heard anything more incredible than that. 

And Sansa had just smiled at that. “Of course.”

When he was sleeping over at Sansa’s, he felt like he was home and it had been a long time for him to feel anything remotely like that. He wasn’t sure if he had ever felt that, to be honest. Even living in the Stark home, growing up, he had oftentimes felt like a guest. 

But in Sansa’s little house, sleeping in her soft bed with the warm furs and his arm tossed over her hip, holding her close as her back molded to his chest, and then waking up in the morning with the rising sun, kissing her on the side of her throat and murmuring a “Good morning”, making her smile each time, Jon felt like he was home, finally getting everything in his life that he hadn’t even known he had wanted. 

They hadn’t taken that next step as a couple. They shared the same bed often – at least three times a week – and kissed one another often as if they were one another’s very oxygen. He had gotten her stripped down to her bra and underwear and she had gotten him down to his boxer briefs, but nothing past that. Sansa had confessed to him that she wasn’t ready and he wasn’t going to be the kind of wanker who pressured his girlfriend into having sex with him if that wasn’t what she wanted. 

He was in love with Sansa. He loved her. He had yet to tell her those words, but that was the truth of the matter and if Sansa realized that she never wanted to have sex, well, he would just grow accustom to liking cold showers each morning. 

And he would be damn sure to not rest completely on top of her when they were kissing like this – no matter how much Sansa moaned beneath him and arched her back, desperate for her hips to meet his. 

Jon had expected this to feel a bit stranger than it actually ever did. He had thought that kissing Sansa would feel like kissing his sister – and it would have exactly felt like that, without a doubt, if he ever kissed Arya the way he kissed Sansa. Arya and he were as close as any brother and sister could be, and never had the same thoughts about her as he had had about Sansa. But still, he had thought that Sansa was the same as Arya and having the thoughts he had regarding Sansa were as wrong as a person could be. 

But he never looked to Sansa as he had looked to Arya or the other Stark boys. She was Sansa and he cared for her and yet, he never looked to her as a sister or anything remotely liked that. He always looked to her as Sansa. She was part of his family and he cared for her and protected her fiercely, but he caught himself more than once, wondering how soft her hair was or how she smelled so good, and he definitely was sure to keep the tight burning knot in the pit of his stomach hidden from everyone – and ignored by himself – whenever he saw Sansa with her betrothed, Harry. 

He had told himself that it was wrong to get jealous because of her or think of her in any way other than a brother thought of a sister and he kept his thoughts of why Sansa never felt like his sister to himself. 

Jon had never liked Harrold Hardyng and he knew he wouldn’t have liked him whether he was Sansa’s betrothed or not. The guy had just always rubbed him the wrong way, and he knew that Robb and Arya had had the same opinion, though they both used far more colorful language to describe that “wrong way” than Jon did and it certainly helped get their points across. 

There was just something about Harry; like he truly believed that the world was such a much better place because he was in it. And there was nothing wrong with a guy having a bit of confidence, but Harry was far past that point. He was nothing if not cocky and for a guy who usually preferred a corner of the room rather than standing in the middle of it, it always just irked Jon to no end. Robb was confident – it nearly radiating off of him – and people just seemed to be naturally drawn to him. He was charming and funny and everyone always said just how nice and polite he was. No one said that about Harry though. It seemed like people were always struggling to find a kind word to say about the man besides “certain of himself, isn’t he?”.

But the Starks and the Hardyngs were old friends and a betrothal agreement between the oldest Hardyng son and the oldest Stark daughter had been made upon Sansa’s fourth year. And Jon never really understood why he spent so many family gatherings clenching his jaw and constantly watching Harry and Sansa together. Why did he care what sort of guy Harry was? Sansa had seemed perfectly happy with him. The girl practically glowed whenever she was in the vicinity of her betrothed. 

“You’re somewhere very far away right now,” Sansa murmured softly, breaking through Jon’s thoughts. 

He looked down to her, lying beneath him. He was messing up her hair and he wondered if she would try to fix it before going upstairs or if she didn’t mind that people saw her and knew that she had been down here, being ravished by her boyfriend. Jon found himself hoping that she wouldn’t mind. 

And knowing how much Sansa loved tunneling her fingers through his hair when they were in this very position, Jon didn’t doubt that his hair mirrored hers right now. 

“I’m thinking about Harry,” Jon admitted – seeing no reason why he should keep it from her. 

Sansa lifted an eyebrow at that. “Well, that makes one of us,” she said with a teasing smile and he smirked before shaking his head slightly and pushing himself off of her, sitting down at her feet. 

His arms were beginning to ache a little from holding himself above her instead of just sinking directly on top of her like he so desperately wanted to do. But if Sansa wasn’t ready for sex, he couldn’t imagine that she was ready to feel exactly just what she did to him when they were together like this. 

Sansa sat up as well and returned the straps of her dress to sit on her shoulders from where they had slipped off and Jon was glad he hadn’t even realized that they had slipped down or Sansa would have had a few more hickeys and beard scratches on her skin than he thought she would want the party goers to see. 

“Why were you thinking of him?” Sansa asked and her voice was quiet and her eyes were steady on him. 

Jon shrugged and didn’t speak, but Sansa kept looking at him, waiting, and Jon knew that a simple shrug wouldn’t be enough for her. He supposed that was another way in which they complimented one another. Jon preferred being quiet and keeping things to himself and Sansa liked to let everyone know exactly what she was thinking. There were no secrets with her and what a person saw with Sansa was exactly what they got with her. Jon found it refreshing; girls as beautiful as her were always playing their games, but not Sansa. Jon may not have talked that often, but Sansa was one of the few who could draw words from him. Her patience seemed to be endless when it came to him actually using words rather than shrugs and in the past couple of months that they had been together, Jon had found it easier to supply answers to the questions that she asked, but considering this was about her ex-fiancé, Jon wasn’t sure how she would react to anything he was going to say. 

“If Harry hadn’t been sleeping around with all of those different women, would you still be with him?” Jon asked and he was shocked as hell that he had actually been able to ask her that. 

And judging by Sansa’s slightly widened eyes, she certainly hadn’t been expecting him to ask that either. 

“Yes.” But Sansa answered nonetheless and truthfully as well. 

Jon had been expecting that answer, but that didn’t mean he liked it and he gave a nod, looking down to his hands. He didn’t know why he was acting like this. Sansa was here – with him – and not with Harry and wasn’t that good enough for him? Why press anything that didn’t need pressing?

“Jon,” Sansa said his name then and moved to sit as close to him on the sofa without actually being in his lap; though he certainly wouldn’t mind if she did want to sit on his lap. “You know how I was with him. He was my betrothed and I thought I was going to marry him. I thought I was in love with him because of that and it was only after our engagement ended that I realized… I didn’t love him at all. You know that.”

Jon gave a nod. He did know that. She said it enough and it wasn’t as if he didn’t believe her. It was just…

“Jon-” Sansa began to say, but he heard himself cutting her off. 

“And if he came back? What if he showed up here today, at your party, and begged you to take him back?” He was aware of how vulnerable he sounded in that moment and he was glad that Sansa was the only one around who could hear it. 

“Well, he would look like quite the idiot then if he did, wouldn’t he?” Sansa smiled faintly and then moved her head towards his, her lips brushing lightly against his. “I love you, Jon,” she then whispered. 

Jon’s eyes had been nearly closed as Sansa kissed him, but at her words, they snapped open again, and he stared right into her eyes. She was smiling faintly at him, but there was the slightest blush across her cheeks now and she almost looked shy, yet nervous, clearly wondering what his reaction to that would be.

Jon opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that he loved her, too, but before he could, he heard a barking coming from upstairs and a second later, the basement door opened again.

“Sansa!” Catelyn called down to them now. “The cake is ready for you and Lady is starting to act up!”

Sansa gave Jon a smile and stood up, her hands smoothing down her dress, and Jon remained sitting on the sofa, not sure if he was able to stand just yet – his mind still reeling from the fact that Sansa Stark loved him – and he watched as she headed up the stairs. 

She didn’t fix her hair. 

…

The Starks loved hosting parties and their oldest daughter graduating from college was certainly cause for celebration. Jon was fairly certain that everyone the family had ever had contact with was invited today. 

Ned and Catelyn had gotten the party catered with all of Sansa’s foods and waiters moved throughout the throngs of partygoers in the backyard, each holding a tray of little foods. Jon had lost count of how many crab puffs he had eaten because anytime a tray with them passed him, he took one. There was also a band who performed covers of Van Morrison and Fleetwood Mac songs – Sansa’s favorites – and when the cake was rolled onto the patio, stopping in front of Sansa, Jon wasn’t surprised to see that it was three-tiered lemon cake with a sparkler into the top tier. Everyone cheered as Sansa laughed and blushed from being at the center of attention like this. 

Jon found himself standing at the outer edge of everyone, watching her, his own lips pulled into a little smile. Sansa looked so happy and overwhelmed as she hugged her parents and then other family members. 

“You’ve turned into such a sap since you started dating her.”

Jon smirked and looked to see that Arya had sidled up next to him, a flute of champagne in her hand. 

“Have I?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Arya snorted. “Pathetically so,” she confirmed. 

Jon went back to watching Sansa. She was looking at the faces around him and she knew that she was looking for him, but he decided to not leave his conversation with Arya just yet. Lady was barking, feeling the excitement from both the party and her beloved owner, and Sansa laughed, crouching down to affectionately scratch Lady behind her ears. 

Sansa loved him. She had said so. Sansa Stark loved him. He had one serious girlfriend in his life – back in undergrad – Ygritte – and they had told one another that they loved one another, but now that he heard the words from Sansa, and feeling how warm and complete he felt from the words, Jon wondered if maybe he and Ygritte had said that to one another simply because they had dated for a while and they were supposed to be in love by then. 

Just like how Sansa had thought she was in love with Harry because she was supposed to be. 

“Are you going to marry her?” Arya asked. 

Jon smirked and shook his head a little. “It’s been two months,” he reminded her. 

“So? You’ve known each other your whole lives.”

And that had been the problem when Sansa and Jon told the family that they were dating. Surprisingly to them, it wasn’t Ned and Catelyn who took the news the worst, but rather, it had been Robb and Arya. They had called their new relationship disgusting and an abomination because they had been raised together; raised to believe that they were brother and sister. 

“Half,” Sansa had corrected them though Jon wasn’t sure how much that actually helped. 

Robb and Arya couldn’t get past the fact that Sansa and Jon were dating – and seriously from the looks of it. Jon had been the one to point it out to them though. Sansa wasn’t like how Robb or Arya was to him. He didn’t look at Sansa and saw a sibling and never had. Robb had been silent at that, his jaw slightly clenched, and Arya had gagged. 

Two months later and Jon knew that both Robb and Arya were still getting used to it. 

“If you ever want to get laid, you need to get married,” Arya said in that completely blunt way of hers. 

“What?” Jon asked, choking on the gulp of his drink he had just taken. 

Arya grinned then as if she was enjoying his near-death. “Sansa’s a virgin. She’s saving herself for marriage,” she then informed Jon, who was still coughing, trying to clear his throat. 

“How do you know that?” He managed to ask. 

“We’re sisters,” Arya shrugged. “And when I had sex for the first time last summer, I told her and she told me. She was so certain that that thing with Harry was actually what she wanted and she wanted their wedding night to be as special as possible.” Arya rolled her eyes at that. 

Jon didn’t know what to say to that. He had just thought… his eyes went back to Sansa, who was posing between Ned and Catelyn as the photographer hired for the party took their picture. He didn’t know what he had thought. Maybe because she and Harry had been together for so long, Jon had just thought that surely she would have slept with the guy by now. Of course, on the other hand, thinking about Sansa having sex with Harry was definitely something he hadn’t wanted taking space up in his head. 

Sansa was now kneeling down on the ground, her arms around the thick neck of Lady, who was panting as if she was smiling for the picture, and the photographer caught Sansa in the middle of a laugh. 

The more Jon watched her, the more it made sense; Sansa wanting to wait until marriage. 

Sansa was in love with romance. She believed in true love and soul mates and the man she being betrothed to was her knight in shining armor. And now, he understood when they made out in their underwear and did nothing more and Sansa told him that she wasn’t ready. He respected that. And he respected this a hell of a lot, too. He had had sex for the first time when he was a freshman in undergrad with Ygritte and again, he knew he had done it just because that was what happened. Kids went off to college and had sex. Sansa had already knew the guy she was going to marry and she would want him to be her one and only. Harry obviously hadn’t shared the same opinion. 

“You better not marry her just to get laid though,” Arya frowned fiercely at him. 

Jon actually let out a laugh at that. “I love her, Arya,” he said, speaking the words out loud for the first time. 

“I know,” Arya rolled her eyes. “It’s disgustingly obvious.”

“Jon!” Sansa then called out and she smiled, gesturing for him. 

Jon handed off his glass to Arya and made his way through the people still milling around to come beside her. The instant he was close enough, Sansa slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her side. Jon smiled at her as he put his arm around her shoulders and the photographer began taking his pictures. 

He turned his face towards her, his nose brushing the mussed red hair she still hadn’t fixed. “I love you, too,” he murmured in her ear. 

Sansa turned her head and looked at him and the beaming smile that formed on her face in response rivaled the flashing brightness of the camera’s flash. 

…


	2. Girl's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, a night of Chinese takeaway and her grading papers while I study for my exam. Horribly romantic and you’re spoiling it,” Jon did his best to tease her and it seemed to do the trick because Myrcella hesitated for another moment before she began unbuttoning her coat and unwrapping her scarf.

…

“Just a second!” Jon called out upon hearing the knocking on the front door and Lady and Ghost both began to bark at the sound.

Jon turned the sink faucet off and shook his hands off before grabbing the nearby dish towel to dry them off the rest of the way. He grabbed his wallet from the table and went to the front door. 

He knew it wasn’t Sansa. It was Sansa’s cottage and she had gone to the market real quick and wouldn’t be knocking on her own front door upon her return. They had ordered Chinese takeaway for dinner that night and Jon just assumed that it was the deliveryman having arrived. 

Ghost and Lady were no longer barking, but their tails were rapidly waving back and forth and Lady was practically whining, trying to dig at the door. Jon gently pushed both beasts aside and pulled open the front door, surprised by the person on the front porch. It was not the deliveryman and was instead, Sansa’s best friend, Myrcella Baratheon, and there were tears streaming down her normally pale, but now flushed, cheeks. 

“Myrcella,” Jon said her name, still a bit off guard, his mind trying to catch up. 

“Hi, Jon,” Myrcella did her best to give him a smile though tears were still falling from her eyes. “Is Sansa here? She said I could come over.”

That surprised Jon as well. 

Sansa hadn’t said anything to him about it – not that she did have to tell him. It was her home and she could invite anyone over whom she wanted; especially her best friend. Did this mean that he was the one who had invited himself over tonight after he got out of classes for the day? Was this a girl’s night or something of the sort and Sansa hadn’t said anything? She had told him to order the Chinese so he had just assumed…

“She’s not, I’m afraid,” Jon finally was capable of answering her question with a slight shake of his head. “She had to make a run to the market, but I know she’ll be back soon,” he was sure to add in case Sansa not being there would make Myrcella cry more. “Come in,” he stepped back, holding the door open wider and Myrcella hesitated for just a moment before she stepped into the warm house and out of the frigid Northern night. 

Ghost and Lady greeted her thusly, their tails still wagging a mile a minute, and Myrcella’s smile was a bit more genuine as she greeted them both in return. 

“Let me take your coat,” Jon offered after closing the door behind her. 

“Oh, no. I don’t think I’m going to stay,” Myrcella said, still looking down to the dogs. “I don’t want to ruin yours and Sansa’s night and I feel like I might be intruding.”

“Yes, a night of Chinese takeaway and her grading papers while I study for my exam. Horribly romantic and you’re spoiling it,” Jon did his best to tease her and it seemed to do the trick because Myrcella hesitated for another moment before she began unbuttoning her coat and unwrapping her scarf.

Jon hung both up in the closet and then thought of what he was to do now. 

Myrcella Baratheon had been Sansa’s best friend since they were both little girls – Myrcella’s father, Robert, and Ned Stark being old, close friends themselves – but Jon had never, personally, been alone with Myrcella before and even if she wasn’t crying her eyes out and so visibly upset, he would be at a loss of what to do or what to talk with her about. 

When she had moved to the North, to Wintertown, a month before the new school term – having gotten a job at the same elementary school as Sansa, Jon had gone out to dinner with Sansa and Myrcella on her first night, but the meal’s conversation was kept active with both girls talking and Jon had been content to just eat his lamb and listen. 

He knew that he liked Myrcella. She was quite different from the rest of her family. Her father was a loud, boisterous man who drank a bit too much and always got drunk at any event they attended, making everyone a bit uncomfortable with some of his comments and behavior, and her mother was a cold, shrew woman – at least in Jon’s opinion though he knew it was one which was shared by many others besides himself. 

And as for Myrcella’s older brother, Joffrey, Sansa had said more than once that she was eternally grateful that her father and Robert Baratheon hadn’t made Joffrey her betrothed. Jon would never say it to Myrcella’s face, but her brother was one of the biggest pieces of shite he had ever met, after Harry Hardyng, of course – though he had a feeling that Myrcella probably already knew that. It would be hard to be related to Joffrey Baratheon and not know how terrible he was. 

Myrcella, however, seemed to be completely sweet and almost too shy, but always quiet and polite. Like Sansa, Myrcella had been raised to be the picture of a perfect highborn daughter. 

“Would you like to sit and wait for her? Would you like something to drink?” Jon then offered. 

“Water, please, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Myrcella answered, finally looking to him again. 

Jon gave her a small smile and gestured towards the sofa as he went into the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water. When he returned to the living room, Myrcella was sitting on the sofa, perfect right on the edge of the cushions, her arms resting on her knees, and her head was bowed, her blonde hair hiding her face, but by the shake of her shoulders and her quiet, unsteady gasps of air, he knew she had returned to crying once more. 

Jon hesitated, unsure of what to do. If this was Sansa crying on the sofa, he would know exactly what to do and wouldn’t even think of acting. He would sit with her and wrap her up in his arms and let her cry it out while letting her know that he was right there and he wasn’t leaving her side. He would then proceed to stuff her with something sweet – either chocolates or ice cream – and then would then carry her off to bed where he would do his best to distract her completely. 

He obviously couldn’t do those things with Myrcella, but it was not in Jon’s makeup to just leave a girl crying her eyes out and not try and do something for her. 

Mind made up, he approached, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of her and then slowly, he sat down beside her – not close enough for them to be touching, but close enough for her to know that he was there. 

He listened to her crying for a moment; she trying to do so as quietly as possible. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her quietly. 

He didn’t expect Myrcella to answer him. He expected that she would just shake her head and wait for Sansa to return so she could cry on her. 

“If Sansa had gotten a job at an elementary school in King’s Landing or anywhere in Westeros, would you have gone with her?” Myrcella asked, still keeping her head bowed so he couldn’t see her face. 

“Yes,” Jon answered without hesitating. There wasn’t anything to think about in his opinion. “Once I graduated from Law School, where Sansa was, that’s where I would go.”

“I knew that would be your answer,” Myrcella said quiet and if possible, she somehow sounded even worse now. Jon was wondering if he should have perhaps lied – just to make her feel better. 

But it also wasn’t really in his makeup to lie. Living in Wintertown with Sansa anywhere else, Jon couldn’t imagine that being an option. Wherever Sansa was, that was where he wanted to be, too.

“Dickon broke up with me this morning,” Myrcella continued. 

Jon absolutely had no idea what to say to that. “Oh,” he said dumbly, but Myrcella pushed on as if she hadn’t heard him. Jon was grateful for that. 

He knew Dickon Tarly in passing – the way those who ran in the same social circles knew one another, but didn’t interact outside of the events and parties they attended knew one another. Even as the younger brother of one of his best mates, Sam, Jon still didn’t know him that much. 

He did know though that Dickon Tarly and Myrcella Baratheon had been betrothed to one another since they were practically born, but unlike Sansa and her own betrothed, Harry – where Sansa seemed to be completely in love with the ass and Harry had seemed somewhat indifferent – both Dickon and Myrcella seemed to both be completely head over heels for the other.

“Why?” Jon couldn’t help, but ask, because now – the more he thought about it – he was left with confusion. 

Myrcella sniffled and then finally sat up, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. She didn’t look at him though, instead taking the glass of water he had put down for her. She didn’t take a sip and seemed to just be content in holding the glass between her hands. 

“He’s still in King’s Landing, working for his father, and with me up in the North now, he told me that the distance was just too great now. He practically accused me of moving so far away and taking a job up here so I could get away from him. He wondered if I had a lover up here. I told him that he knew that that wasn’t true. I told him that I loved him more than anyone and then I reminded him that we’re getting married in the spring…”

Myrcella trailed off and took a sip of water before exhaling a shaky breath once she had swallowed. She then leaned back entirely into the sofa and blinked up at the ceiling. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were still red-rimmed and the tears had dried tracks on her cheeks. 

She exhaled a shaky breath. “He told me that he no longer wanted to marry me. He told me that I could keep the ring, but he was going to no longer consider us engaged. He…” tears began to form again and Jon paused for only a moment before reaching his hand out, covering on of Myrcella’s. “He told me that this should make my mother finally happy. My mother never liked our betrothal and she never understood why my father had agreed to a betrothal with a fifth son.

“And it’s true. My mother wasn’t happy and she often told my father that there should have been a betrothal between me and Robb, but she kept quiet whenever Dickon was around because as I grew up, I told her that I loved him and being with him made me happy. My mother can be a terrible woman, I know, but she loves me and she just wants me to be happy.”

That wasn’t a secret to anyone. Cersei Baratheon was a terrible woman. Terrifying in all things. But one thing could be said about Cersei Baratheon. She loved her children more than anything. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to teach Westeros geography to second graders while, the whole time, you just want to curl into a ball and cry?” Myrcella asked, moving her eyes to him.

Jon’s lips twitched the smallest amount. “Not exactly, but before one of my finals last term, I actually did just that.”

Myrcella let out the softest of laughs and Jon considered it a triumph. 

“Dickon knows my mother never liked him, but I thought we had gotten past it. At least got a point where we were able to live a life without thinking about it. My mother doesn’t like him, but she loves me and the most she does while around him is sneer. She doesn’t say anything.” Myrcella paused. “Which I suppose is just as bad, but still, he was marrying me, not my mother.”

She took another sip of water. 

“Do you think…?” Jon began to speak, but stopped himself before he could finish and Myrcella looked at him, waiting. He cleared his throat. “Do you think he is, perhaps, just using your mother’s dislike of him as an excuse? You said you were getting married this spring. Perhaps he is just getting cold feet?”

“Sansa said the same thing this morning. Just not in so many words.” Myrcella sat up once more and placed the glass on the coffee table. “And if that’s the truth of it, that’s somehow even worse. That he would rather break my heart than wed me.” 

Jon agreed, but stayed silent. 

If – when – he and Sansa ever got married, nothing could keep him away on that day. White walkers could rise up from their eternal sleeps and try to drag him away and they still wouldn’t succeed in keeping him from marrying Sansa and binding himself to her forever. 

“You’re such a better man than Harry ever was,” Myrcella then told him quietly. 

Jon smiled a little at that. “I believe a flea would be a better man than Harry.” 

Myrcella smiled, but then it slipped from her face. “She loves you so much. Since you two began, I’ve known her for our whole lives and I’ve never seen her happier. She can light the darkest Northern night with her smile. All I have to do is mention your name.”

Jon could actually feel himself blushing a little at that and he now was the one to look away. “I love her very much,” he said quietly. 

“You don’t have to be polite on my account,” Myrcella said and again, Jon smiled. 

“I’m just trying to spare Sansa any embarrassment if I tell her best friend what I would like to do to Sansa behind closed doors.”

“Well, then to spare you of any embarrassment, I won’t tell you what Sansa says about what she would like to do to you behind closed doors,” Myrcella said and she was smiling, but Jon knew that she was not joking. 

His blush grew at just the thought of Sansa imagining him like that. 

He would have married her yesterday if he could have and the only reason he had been holding off on a proposal was because he had thought that perhaps she needed a bit more time. They had only been together for four months now and maybe her heart wasn’t still completely mended from all of the breaks Harry had given it. 

But now, knowing that she thought of him in the same ways he thought of her… well, that certainly changed things, didn’t it?

“I have an engagement ring if you would like it,” Myrcella broke through his thoughts, her words in a practical whisper. “Apparently, for me, it’s now just a ring.” 

“I think Dickon is going to come up here within days to see you, once he realizes his mistake – he hasn’t realized it already – and he’ll want you to keep that ring right where it is,” Jon said. 

A fresh round of tears brimmed in her eyes and Myrcella closed her eyes. “No. No, I think he truly meant what he said on the phone. My mother always wins. In the end, she always wins. I had just hoped… I had hoped that I finally had someone in my life who wouldn’t let her. I thought I had my own champion. That’s the way Sansa describes you, did you know?” 

She looked to him and Jon found himself shaking his head. 

“She has said more than once that you saved her. You swept in and saved her and fixed her heart when she thought it would be forever broken.”

Jon felt his throat grow thick at that. 

“If anything, she was the one who saved me. I wouldn’t have made it far without her. And I think Sansa Stark is too strong to be saved by anyone except herself. She’s much stronger than she ever seems to think.” Jon gave Myrcella’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Dickon will be up here. I don’t doubt it. We men are idiots. You know that. Once he goes even a day without talking with you, he’ll realize it’s a day he never wants to live through again.”

Lady and Ghost began barking once again and there was a knock on the front door. Jon stood up, taking his wallet once again, and as he headed towards the door, he caught sight of Sansa. She was standing in the doorway, leading into the kitchen, a brown paper shopping bag in her arms and tears clinging to her lashes. But she was smiling when she saw that he saw her. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Jon said, wondering how much she had heard of the conversation. 

“I came in through the back,” she replied. “Obviously,” she then added with a smile. 

Jon smiled, too, and then went to the front door to get their bags of takeaway and when he carried everything into the kitchen, Myrcella was in there now as well, helping Sansa unpack the things she had run to the market for. 

“This is too much,” Myrcella said with a shake of her head. 

Sansa promptly ignored her. “Double fudge ice cream. Brownie chunk ice cream. Chocolate syrup. Whipped cream. Red wine. The latest tabloids. And now, we also have plenty of Chinese food to gorge ourselves on and as always, my copy of _Sixteen Candles_ is waiting for our viewing pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Myrcella whispered, her voice shaky once more, and Sansa folded her up into her arms, the two girls hugging one another. 

Jon moved as quietly as he could, gathering them all plates, and beginning to serve himself so he could go back into the bedroom to eat and leave the girls to their night. 

“You’ll stay too, Jon, won’t you?” Myrcella asked though before he could follow through on his plan and make a silent breakaway. She looked to him, wiping her cheeks, and Jon looked to her for a moment and then to Sansa, waiting to see if she would say something. 

But she just gave him that smile of hers. 

“If you want me to. I’ve never seen _Sixteen Candles_ ,” he then said. 

“And you’ve been dating Sansa for four months now and she hasn’t made you watch it yet?” Myrcella began piling food onto her own plate. “I think you’ll love it. The main heroine has red hair,” she said, throwing Jon a smile and then taking her plate and the entire bottle of wine with her, she returned to the living room. 

With Jon and Sansa alone in the kitchen now, Sansa took the last plate and began helping herself to the dumplings and orange chicken. Jon set his plate down and then came to stand behind her, his arms sliding around her waist, holding her tight to his chest, and as his nose brushed along her jaw, he felt it curve into a smile. 

“You truly are the best man,” Sansa said in a soft voice as if she didn’t want anyone else to know. “And what you told Myrcella about Dickon coming in a few days to see her, I hope, for Myrcella, that that will truly happen, but at the same time, I hope Myrcella can find her own Northern champion like I have found for myself.” 

“We can take her out and I can introduce her to Tormund if you’d like,” Jon offered and then smiled at the burst of laughter that broke through Sansa’s lips at that. 

But then, Sansa was quiet for a moment. “That’s actually not a bad idea. If Dickon doesn’t come… even if he does… we should introduce Myrcella to Tormund.”

“Could you imagine Myrcella bringing Tormund to King’s Landing to meet _that_ family?”

Sansa laughed again. “I could. I actually would pay money to watch Tormund meeting Cersei Lannister and Joffrey. He is from the North and therefore, he’s not afraid of anything.”

“That’s not true. There’s plenty that Northern men are afraid of.”

“One example, please,” Sansa said, turning in his arms to face him, doing her best to keep from smiling; trying to appear as serious about this conversation as possible. 

“Highborn daughters far out of our league. Absolutely terrifying to us,” Jon said and Sansa gave him the softest smile at that and stepped to him, her arms sliding around his shoulders, and her lips met his – lightly and just enough for him to just feel them. 

And though he knew Myrcella was just in the living room, Jon knew that a kiss like that wouldn’t do. Sansa seemed to know it, too, for she was smiling when Jon lifted a hand to the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers once more, kissing her firmly and deeply, and as he listened to her moan ever so softly from the back of her throat, Jon knew he had to go buy her a ring. 

Preferably tomorrow. As soon as the jewelry store opened. 

There was no longer a point in waiting any longer. It seemed like maybe Sansa agreed.

…


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Jon cut her words off with his lips to hers. 
> 
> “Gain five-hundred pounds while you’re at it,” Jon told her once their mouths parted. 
> 
> “I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Sansa said quietly with a smile. “But thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is kind of going to be jumping all over the place, exploring Jon and Sansa's relationship before and after they get married. PS - I love domestic fluff.

…

“Don’t take this the wrong way because not only are you my brother-in-law and my cousin, but you’re also my best mate,” Robb said and then paused to take a deep breath. “But I’m going to punch you in the face.”

Jon smiled a little as he moved to the next jewelry case. “Thank you for the warning. Can we wait until we get back outside though?”

“Oh, so you’re saying we’ll be going outside again?” Robb quipped. 

“We haven’t been in here that long.”

“Two hours and eleven minutes, but who’s counting?” Robb asked, looking down to his phone, before casting a steely glare on Jon once again. “What is the problem?” Robb then asked, looking at Jon and sighing heavily. “This is not her first birthday you have celebrated and all of the other birthdays, you always seemed to do fine.”

“This is her first birthday we have celebrated since Lyanna was born,” Jon reminded him, sounding slightly impatient as if he felt like Robb should have already known this. “It’s important that I find her the perfect gift.”

Robb wanted to ask why, but he was wise to swallow the question down before giving it voice. Instead, he tried to keep his sighs to a minimum as he watched Jon as Jon studied the jewelry case in front of him. Thankfully, this was the last case in the store and if Jon did not make a decision from this one, Robb began to fear that he would want to start all over again, beginning at the front of the store once more. 

“Didn’t you just buy her a present?” Robb couldn’t hold it in. 

“A birthing gift,” Jon reminded him, looking up from the jewels to meet his eye. He was frowning slightly as if he didn’t understand Robb’s point. “This is Sansa’s birthday.”

That just made Robb frown though as well. “Seems like a lot of gifts,” he murmured to himself.

Jon heard though and smirked a little to himself. “I didn’t have to buy Sansa a gift after she had Lyanna. I wanted to. She is the mother of my child and she has given me a daughter. Trust me. After what Sansa went through, bringing Lyanna into this world, gifting her with a present is the least I could do.”

Robb cringed a little, not really wanting to remember his sister’s labor. It had been bad enough, sitting in the hallway, listening to her screams of pain ring out. 

“But this is her birthday and I want to get her something that says that she’s more than just the mother of my child. She’s my wife and I love her more than anything; that she is my entire life.”

Robb cringed now, but for an entirely different reason. “Yeah. Got it,” he said quickly. 

Jon and Sansa had been together now long enough for Robb to have gotten used to it and he was happy for them. He could see with his own eyes that Jon and Sansa truly loved one another and were so truly happy together. What person wouldn’t want that for his sister and best mate?

He just didn’t really want to hear about certain things when it came to their relationship; mainly any time Jon talked about Sansa because he was just so damn besotted with her and would spout out things that would make the finest poets in Westeros envious. Robb had never heard Jon talk like that until he began seeing Sansa and sometimes, it was just downright embarrassing to listen. 

“May I see that one?” Jon asked the saleswoman who had been none-too-subtly following him and Robb around the store since they entered – two hours and thirteen minutes ago. 

Robb came to stand next to Jon as the woman pulled the bracelet – a band sparkling with diamonds and blue sapphires – from the case and laid it out on a piece of black velvet. Robb let out a whistle at the sight of it and Jon lifted a hand, yet hesitated a moment before touching it. 

“What do you think?” Jon asked Robb as he carefully lifted the bracelet to inspect it closer.

“I think that if you buy Sansa that for her birthday, Lyanna won’t be an only child for long,” Robb replied with a grin and Jon smiled a little at that, too. 

He studied the bracelet for another moment longer. “The sapphires with her eyes and her hair… I think this will be perfect.” He set the piece down once more and looked to the saleswoman. “Yes, I’ll take it. Could you please wrap it up also? It’s a present for my wife.”

“Certainly, Mr. Snow,” the woman said before happily carrying the piece off into the back. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. You have to stop this,” Robb said once they were left alone. 

“Stop what?” Jon asked, blinking at him blankly. 

“You are setting the standards way too high for the rest of us,” Robb said, waving his hand over the sparkling jewelry case they still stood at. “Jeyne is going to start expecting things…”

“Expecting things like her husband buying her presents?” Jon raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I buy her presents,” Robb said, frowning a little. “I don’t have to buy her a present all of the time.”

“I don’t buy Sansa things all of the time either,” Jon pointed out to him. “It just seems like that with Lyanna and now Sansa’s birthday…” he trailed off as he saw a smile slowly taking over Robb’s face. “What?” He asked. 

“You flew her to Dorne for your first anniversary so you two could see the gardens,” Robb reminded him in a dry tone.

Jon noticeably blushed at that. “Sansa loves flowers,” he shrugged and Robb couldn’t help, but laugh as the saleswoman returned with the wrapped bracelet and Jon signed off on the bill. 

…

By the time he got home after his long day, the night sky was as black as ink. Grey clouds hung low, threatening to dump more snow onto the inches already on the ground. After getting married, and Jon had gotten his job in the District Attorney’s office, they made more than enough money to buy a larger home among the other wealthy families of Wintertown. But they were still living in Sansa’s cottage that had now become theirs. It was a little cramped with two adults, two good-sized dogs and a baby with all of her belongings – Jon was still amazed at how much a baby could own – but it was home and Jon couldn’t imagine them living anywhere else right now. 

Making sure the box containing Sansa’s present was securely hidden in his brief case, Jon grabbed his other things and headed up the path from the driveway to the front door. As soon as he unlocked it, he was greeted by Lady and Ghost and he could smell dinner cooking in the air. He told Sansa more than once that she didn’t have to cook dinner on top of taking care of Lyanna all day. Sansa had given him a look for that that had made him silent, but he still thought it. 

“Hey, you two.” Jon set his things down and greeted both dogs. “You were good for mom today?”

He hung up his coat and scarf and then headed down the hallway to their bedroom where he knew Sansa would be. And sure enough, she was sitting up on their bed, their daughter in her arms as Lyanna nursed from Sansa’s breast. Sansa lifted her eyes when Jon appeared in the doorway and she gave him the softest of smiles and Jon could just stand there, looking upon the scene in front of him, not able to take another step for another moment.

It oftentimes was Jon’s reaction when he watched Sansa feed their daughter. Lyanna was just one month old now and Jon supposed that he was still getting used to the fact that she was actually here. Sansa’s pregnancy had seemed to last forever – until the final month which had flown by – and now, their daughter was finally here. It was still terrifying and amazing all at the same time. 

When Jon watched Sansa breastfeed Lyanna, doing one of the oldest and most natural things in the world, he felt that maybe Sansa had always been a mother and just had to wait until her baby arrived. Jon wondered if he would ever get used to being a father. 

Finally, he was able to move again and he went to their closet, shedding his suit jacket. 

“How was court?” Sansa asked him. 

He gave her a tired smile as he kicked off his shoes. “It’s good to be home,” was all he said. He next unknotted his tie and pulled his shirt from his pants, beginning to work his fingers down the row of buttons. “How was your day?” He asked her. 

“Dirty diapers and being spit on,” Sansa smiled. “Same as yesterday. I want to hear about your day. Is there still a world out there?” 

That made Jon pause in the middle of unbuckling his belt. “Would you like to go out?” He asked her and wondered why he was just now thinking of asking her that. Ever since Lyanna’s birth, Sansa had been cooped up in this house, caring for their daughter. 

Sansa didn’t complain – never – but Jon went off to work every day and Sansa didn’t even want to take Lyanna outside right now due to the coldness of the Northern winter. 

“For your birthday,” he continued. “Would you like to go out for your birthday? Anywhere you want to go. I hadn’t thought to ask just because I knew you would be reluctant to leave Lyanna…”

“And you thought right,” Sansa smiled at him. Jon smiled a little, too, but it faded as he came to sit down on the edge of the bed next to her legs. Sansa gently pulled Lyanna from her breast and transferred her to the other, wincing slightly, and Jon put a hand on Sansa’s knee, rubbing it through the black yoga pants she wore. “No, I don’t want to go anywhere for my birthday. I… I had another idea actually.”

“What? Anything,” he then swiftly promised. 

Sansa looked down to their daughter, smiling faintly as Lyanna’s eyes drooped sleepily as she drank, and then she looked to Jon once more with the same smile. “Could we get someone in here to do a little bit of cleaning? I haven’t been able-”

“Of course,” Jon answered before she could finish. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that already. You shouldn’t have to clean, too, when you take care of our daughter all day.”

Sansa laughed at that. “There are plenty of women who do everything without the luxury of a maid,” she pointed out to him and Jon just smiled a little and shrugged at that. 

“Still, we’ll hire a maid – and not just for your birthday.”

Jon leaned in then and gave her a soft kiss on her lips and then stroked gentle fingers over Lyanna’s head, already covered in a thin layer of baby-soft fine red hair the same shade of Sansa’s. But her eyes were already grey just like her father’s. Jon gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head and then stood up once again so Lyanna could finish her supper and Jon could finish getting himself out of his suit. 

He changed into a fresh tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and made a quick detour to the bathroom before returning to their bathroom, finishing tying his hair back from his face. Now in the warmth and coziness of their home with his wife and their daughter and two dogs, tucked safely away inside for the night, he was feeling more tired with each passing second, but he wouldn’t dare yawn in front of Sansa. 

He sat down on the bed beside Sansa, his back to the headboard, and Lyanna finished drinking. Jon grabbed one of the spit rags from the pile kept on the nightstand table, tossing it over his shoulder as Sansa gently pulled Lyanna back from her breast. The baby was then passed to him and Jon turned her, beginning to pat her on her back gently to burp her and Sansa pulled her sweatshirt back over her head. 

“I’ve made dinner,” Sansa said, but before she could say anything else, she let out a great yawn.

“Let it burn,” Jon suggested and she smiled tiredly. 

“That’s a waste of a perfectly good meat loaf,” she said, but didn’t pull herself from the bed. Instead, she remained sitting next to him, watching him with their daughter. “I’ve been thinking about something…” she began to say, but trailed off, and Jon turned his head to look at her as he continued patting Lyanna on the back. Sansa swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. “I don’t know how to say it,” she then admitted. 

Jon’s brow was furrowed now. “Going back to Harry then?” He asked, trying to make a joke. 

Sansa rolled her eyes and nearly punched him in the arm before she remembered that she shouldn’t do such a thing to him with Lyanna so close. “You do know he’s married now as well?”

“Don’t really keep track of the man,” Jon said, lowering his eyes to Lyanna, and both knew that he definitely did keep tabs on Harry Hardyng and what he was doing. 

Sansa found it sweet – in a way – but she also found it frustrating at times. She didn’t even think of her ex-fiancé at all anymore and yet, Jon insisted on letting the man take up space in his mind. 

“I’ve been thinking about school,” Sansa said, wanting to keep Harry Hardyng out of their bedroom; away from them and their daughter. 

The man mattered less than nothing and had for a very long time now. She wished Jon thought the same and she knew that Jon wasn’t threatened by the other man. He just still held such anger towards him for what he had done to Sansa all of that time ago when they had been betrothed. 

Jon was always fighting for her honor whether it needed fighting for or not. 

Jon looked back to her. “You have two more months of maternity leave,” he reminded her. 

“I know,” Sansa nodded and watched once Lyanna had burped, Jon wiped at her mouth and then turned the baby once more so she was cradled safely and strongly in his arms. “What if I didn’t go back?” She said the words quickly, as if she was pulling off a bandage and the quicker, the better.

Jon didn’t say anything for a moment, just looking at her, and Sansa was grateful that she had never been on the witness stand with him cross-examining her. Her husband was an extremely handsome man – soft-spoken and almost shy – but he could also be intimidating in his silence. He probably didn’t even realize that he could be. Jon was so oblivious to things like that. 

“And you would stay home with Lyanna?” Jon finally asked. 

“Well, I was going to go on the next cross-country tour and perform with _Dragon Egg_ ,” Sansa replied, now making her own attempt at a joke. But then her smile faded and she nodded. “Yes. Just until she’s older and going into school herself. And I know I’ve worked so hard to earn my teaching degree, but I can’t bear the thought of being away from her and I want to be the best mother that I can be. Not that mothers who go to work every day aren’t wonderful mothers-”

Sansa’s words were cut off with Jon’s lips pressing fiercely against hers. 

“If you want to stay home, I want you to stay home, too,” he said. 

Sansa closed her eyes with relief and let out a sigh. When she opened them once again, Jon was looking at her. 

“Were you nervous to tell me that?” He asked her though it was obvious that she had been. 

“Yes,” Sansa answered truthfully. “I just wasn’t sure what you would think. You didn’t marry a stay-at-home mom and I was worried…” she paused, getting her thoughts straight. “I didn’t want you to feel burdened with me not working and I was thinking about when we go to events for your office, I just didn’t want you to be embarrassed over me in front of your colleagues -” 

Once again, Jon cut her words off with his lips to hers. 

“Gain five-hundred pounds while you’re at it,” Jon told her once their mouths parted. 

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Sansa said quietly with a smile. “But thank you.” 

Jon smiled a little, too, and then pressed his lips to her forehead. 

The oven timer from the kitchen began to go off and as they always did when they heard the high-pitched sound, both Lady and Ghost began to bark. Thankfully, Lyanna was too “milk drunk” in Jon’s arms to stir much at the sudden bout of noise. Sansa couldn’t help, but yawn, and upon seeing her do so, Jon couldn’t hold his own in this time. He yawned, too. 

“Stay,” Jon told her as Sansa began pulling herself from the bed. 

“I don’t want it to burn. I’ll be right back,” she promised and gave him a small smile before leaving the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. 

Tugging the oven mitts on, she then pulled the meatloaf pan from the oven, setting it down on the counter to cool, and she then filled both Lady and Ghost’s bowls with more dog kibble. 

When she got back to the bedroom, she smiled at the scene before her. Jon had laid down on the bed, resting Lyanna on his chest, and both father and daughter were on the cusp of falling asleep. Sansa only paused for another moment before coming back to the bed, bringing a fur with her, unfolding it and then laying down next to Jon, she made sure they were all covered. 

She kissed Lyanna’s head and then Jon’s cheek before resting her head on Jon’s shoulder, listening to his steady breathing and watching their daughter. Jon moved his arm so one remained around Lyanna and the other could slip around Sansa’s shoulders, holding her close. 

“For your birthday, I’m also going to take my turn and make _you_ something for dinner,” he said, his lips to where her hair met her forehead, and Sansa smiled sleepily, her eyes growing heavier. 

“Sounds like the best birthday,” she replied, her words slow and dropping off as she fell asleep. 

“No one deserves it more,” Jon managed to answer before he fell completely asleep, too. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will have both Jealous Jon and Jealous Sansa in the next two chapters.


	4. Study Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were in her house. This was her territory and she would not feel nervous or apologize for feeling the way she felt.

…

Before she could even knock, Sansa heard the laughing from the other side of the door. One, she could identify as Jon. He rarely seemed to completely laugh, but rather always chuckled instead. The second laugh to join him was light and airy and definitely feminine and Sansa didn’t know who it was. He said that he was going to be studying tonight – a big exam at the end of the week for one of his classes in Law School – and Sansa had decided to bring some food and surprise him with a study break. She knew that if he wasn’t reminded to eat, he never would; always too lost in his books and notes to take a break. 

Jon had never mentioned that he would be studying with someone. Some girl. 

Suddenly, she felt a burning in the back of her throat before she did her best to squash it away as quickly as possible. No. Jon was not Harry and she never forgot that. They were two such different men, there weren’t even any possible comparisons to be made. And yet, standing at Jon’s door, hearing a woman laugh in his flat and Jon not telling her that his study partner was a female…

Sansa couldn’t help it. She tried, but she couldn’t. It all came flooding back. The hurt and betrayal and the complete and utter devastation she had felt upon finding out about Harry’s infidelities, it burned her chest and before she could stop, tears flooded her eyes. 

Jon would not treat her the same. She knew he would not. She knew he loved her. 

And yet, she couldn’t help, but always be a little nervous about it. She sometimes thought that Jon would want to go find a woman who wasn’t so… well, someone who wasn’t so his cousin. 

And it wasn’t as if they were the only cousins involved romantically in all of Westeros. All of the old houses in Westeros were related in one way or another. Sansa’s own grandparents on the Stark side had been cousins. It was just the way of things. But it wasn’t as if Jon and Sansa were raised as cousins or even half-siblings. Sansa had memories from childhood and Jon was there, yes, but he was always in the background, not really all that important to her. She was sure Arya or Robb would remember things differently – most of their memories growing up being the same memories Jon had – but Sansa and Jon just had never had any type of relationship growing up. 

Now though, she and Jon had fallen in love. They had exchanged the words and now said them all sorts of times to one another and each time when Jon murmured those three – sometimes four words to her – _I love you, Sansa_ – Sansa felt warm and safe and she honestly felt like she had the courage to do absolutely anything because she had Jon in her life. 

He would catch her if she ever fell.

He had already done that. 

Jon was not Harry. Jon was nothing like Harry. Jon loved her. 

Repeating those three statements over and over in her mind, Sansa lifted her fist again and knocked and Ghost barked and she was not going to worry if it took Jon long to answer the door. 

She was not going to lie to herself though. When mere seconds went by and then Jon was opening the door, Sansa nearly breathed with relief. 

“Sansa,” Jon said her name and could not help, but be surprised to see her there. 

She gave him a smile. “I’ve brought you dinner,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if you’ve eaten…”

“Gods, no. I think the last thing I ate was toast this morning.”

Sansa forgot for a moment all about the woman in her boyfriend’s flat; the woman she still hadn’t seen yet, to give Jon a frown. “Jon, you have to take better care of yourself,” she scolded him. 

Jon smiled a little and then leaned in, brushing his lips across hers and taking the bag from her arms. “That’s what I have you for,” he said and then stepped aside, reaching for her with his other arm and ushering her into the flat, closing the door behind her. 

Ghost was immediately in front of her, greeting her, but Sansa admitted that she was a bit distracted, her eyes falling upon the woman she had heard laughing. And there wasn’t a single part of Sansa who was surprised to see that the woman was absolutely gorgeous. A bit on the petite side, but still with a desirable hourglass frame and long, honey-blonde hair that trailed down her back to her waist. And her eyes… her eyes looked to be almost grey. Just like Jon’s.

Sansa swallowed, reminding herself there was no reason to be nervous. Jon was not Harry. 

“Hello, I’m Sansa,” Sansa said while taking a step forward. 

“Hi! I’m Val,” the woman said with a smile. “So you do have a name. Jon wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh,” Sansa said and the burning in the back of her throat was coming back. 

Why didn’t Jon want this woman to know her name? Was it because… Harry had never told any of the women he had slept with that he had a fiancée. 

No, Sansa, she harshly scolded herself. Jon was not Harry. He was not hiding her. 

Sansa did her best to smile at Val as Val kept smiling at her, obviously studying her as well in return. Sansa wondered what Val saw. Competition? A non-threat? Sansa noticed immediately how beautiful Val was and that thought was only growing stronger in her mind. 

“You are the absolute bloody best,” Jon said then and Sansa turned her head to see him coming from his kitchen, already having taken a bite and chewing on one of the sandwiches she had made and brought for him. 

She preferred baking to cooking, but even she was able to construct a sandwich. 

She smiled as he came to her, sliding an arm around her waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She then looked back to Val, who was watching them both. 

“I’ve made plenty if you’re hungry, too,” Sansa offered. 

“Thanks, but I don’t want to ruin my appetite,” Val said with a shake of her head. “Jon and I are meeting some of our mates at the pub when we’re done studying here.”

Sansa felt her throat catch on fire now. 

Mates. It was such a harmless word except for how the way Val was saying it. Sansa knew she wasn’t just imagining it. “Mates – and that doesn’t include you.”

Jon swallowed his bite of sandwich. “I never agreed to actually going,” he told Val. “Just that I would think about it.”

“What? You’re going to stay here and read about even more about Vale Proper vs. the Fingers? Our eyes are already crossed.” 

“You should go,” Sansa heard herself say. “You’ve been studying for this exam so hard…”

She thought he had been anyway. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe Jon had been doing something else hard with the beautiful blonde in his flat. 

Sansa hated herself for thinking that.

“I should get going,” she then said quickly, breaking away from Jon. 

“You just got here,” Jon said, turning, staring at her – surprised and a little confused. “Did you want to stay and have a sandwich?”

“Oh, no, they’re for you. And Val,” Sansa said, feeling bile rise at the name. 

What was the matter with her? She refused to be jealous. There was no reason to be jealous. 

And yet, this all felt so familiar to her – the man she loved and a beautiful woman who wasn’t her. She shouldn’t have been like this. She loved Jon. She trusted Jon. Jon would never break her heart in the ways that Harry had. Jon was a grown man and could spend his time who whoever he wanted. She knew all of this. 

The burning sensation in her throat increased. 

“Sansa,” Jon said, following her to the door. 

“Jon,” Sansa said, opening the door and then turning back towards him. 

Now, he was staring at her in that way that he did – his eyes intent on her as if he saw nothing in this world except her. He looked so confused – having no idea what was going on – and Sansa did her best to give a smile and step towards him, placing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth; not wanting to kiss him while Val was standing in his living room, watching them. 

“You should go to the pub with your classmates,” she told him. 

“Come with me,” he said in a low voice so only she heard. 

“I can’t. I have to get back home and grade a stack of tests,” she said and that wasn’t a lie. She did have to grade papers. She kissed the corner of his mouth again. “You go though. Go and have fun. You’ve been studying so hard.”

Haven’t you? Sansa asked the question to herself. 

Jon took hold of her elbow though before she could past the threshold into the hallway. He didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at her and she wondered if he could actually peek into her mind and read the thoughts she had in there. 

She was ashamed of her thoughts and hoped that he didn’t know them. He wasn’t Harry. He was so much better than Harry could even hope to be. Jon would never hurt her. 

And yet, seeing Val and how beautiful the woman was, it had completely thrown Sansa off. And the fact that Jon had never mentioned that he would be studying with her and then finding out that he had never even mentioned her name...

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I promise,” Sansa said, giving him another small smile and then gently pulling her arm from his light grasp, she was able to turn and head down the hallway, managing to keep her head high the entire time.

…

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re being an idiot.”

“How can I possibly take that the wrong way?” Sansa replied dryly with a roll of her eyes. 

She knew that Arya wasn’t still exactly comfortable with hers and Jon’s relationship though her sister, and Robb as well, had finally seemed to accept that it was a real thing and though they had never been close as children, now, older, Sansa could only think of calling her sister once home again after having left Jon’s.

Arya sighed heavily from over the phone. “Sansa, even you can’t be this stupid.”

“You are just wonderful at cheering a person up,” Sansa quipped in return, scratching Lady behind her ear as both laid on the bed in her bedroom. She had left the lights off and looking out the window, by way of the yellow streetlamp outside, she could see that it had begun to snow again. “I hope Gendry is never sick and expects you to take care of him. You’d probably punch him and demand he get better.”

Arya sighed again. “Sansa, you know you’re beautiful. Like _ridiculously_ beautiful, right?”

Sansa didn’t say anything. 

“I used to be so angry because a lot of my guy friends in school wanted to come over only if they knew you were going to be there, too. I hated it.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open at that. “I didn’t… I never did anything,” she rushed out to say.

“I know,” Arya was quick to assure her. “You had no idea. They just liked to stare at you. It was so annoying and infuriating and I used to hate you for looking the way you do.” 

Sansa was quiet at that, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t help the way she looked. 

“Harry loved the fact that you’re beautiful because he liked you being on his arm so he could show you off. You made him feel a hell of a lot more important than he ever was,” Arya continued. “And Jon thinks you’re beautiful, too, but the way he looks at you, you’re more than that. When you talk, he actually looks at you and not just your mouth moving or your chest.”

“He’s so smart, Arya,” Sansa whispered. “So, so smart and I don’t know the first thing about Westeros Law or anything like that. I teach nine-year-olds how to write in cursive.”

“Has Jon ever said you’re stupid?” Arya demanded to know.

“No, of course not,” Sansa didn’t even have to think about the answer. 

Of course Jon hadn’t said anything remotely close to that. If anything, he was the one to always ask about her day first and then always listened to every word she said, detailing her day – no matter how boring it had been - and he never looked like he was bored as she talked. 

“But seeing him with that Val girl – and speaking of beautiful – it just made me feel helplessly inadequate around them both.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Arya snorted. 

“Thanks,” Sansa rolled her eyes. 

Lady heard something outside then and she leaped from the bed, barking and running from the room. Sansa remained lying on the bed. 

“Well, it is! _You’re_ being stupid,” Arya said. “Sansa, Jon loves you. Adores you. It’s disgusting.”

Sansa couldn’t help, but laugh at her sister’s words even though she still felt a hole in the pit of her stomach. She knew Jon loved her, but Sansa knew there had to be more than just because she was beautiful. She was more than just someone who was beautiful. She had to be. Being beautiful alone wouldn’t keep Jon interested. It certainly hadn’t for Harry. 

There was a heavy knock on the front door and Lady began barking once again. 

“I have to go. Someone’s here,” Sansa informed her sister as she pulled herself from the bed. 

“Well, tell them to sod off. I’m not done kicking sense into you,” Arya said and Sansa laughed before giving a parting and hanging up the phone. 

The rooms were chilly as she headed down the hallway to answer the front door. Once she saw who this was, she would return to her room, bury beneath the blankets and furs and hold Lady close to her to as she fell asleep. 

She peeked through the window in the door and saw that it was Jon. In that moment, Sansa realized that she wasn’t surprised in the least to see that it was him. 

Taking Lady’s collar, pulling the dog back, she unlocked the door and opened it. “I thought you were going to the pub with Val,” she said without any other greeting. 

Jon stood there, his bag slung across his chest and the same bag she had brought to his flat with the sandwiches was now in his arm. “Why would I go there when you’re here?” He asked. 

“Jon,” she sighed and then looked at him as he stared at her. 

Gently pulling Lady with her, Sansa stepped back so Jon could come into the house and stop any more cold winter air from rushing into the room. 

“You should be out with your friends,” Sansa said, releasing Lady’s collar and the dog immediately going to greet Jon with excitement. 

Jon gently set his things down in the armchair and then pulled his gloves before crouching down and rubbing Lady behind her ears. “Why?” He asked, keeping his eyes on Sansa. 

She couldn’t help, but sigh. “Because they’re your friends. You should be out having fun with them and giving your mind a break from all of the studying you’ve been doing.”

Jon stopped petting Lady and stood up, never taking his eyes from Sansa. “Then come with me. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“What? You mean actually tell them my name?” Sansa blurted out before she could stop herself. 

Jon exhaled a stream of breath. “I knew that that was going to bother you.”

“Of course it bothered me!” Sansa exclaimed. “I introduce myself to one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen – who was in your apartment and you didn’t tell me – and she didn’t even know my name!” 

Jon was quiet for a moment, not saying anything as he unwound his scarf from his neck and unzipped his coat. He took neither off though and stood there and stared at her and Sansa refused to feel nervous right now. They were in her house. This was her territory and she would not feel nervous or apologize for feeling the way she felt. 

“I knew that that was going to bother you and I knew I had screwed up the instant I heard Val say that,” Jon said. “I didn’t tell her your name because you’re mine. Everyone has seen your picture and they all say the same thing. How did you get a girl like her, Snow? So I don’t talk to anyone about our relationship because I don’t need to hear the questions that I ask myself all the time.”

Sansa admitted that she had no idea what to say to that. 

“How has everyone seen my picture?” Sansa wondered. 

“That strip of pictures we took in that photo booth. I use it as a bookmark,” Jon answered. 

“Oh,” she felt embarrassed now. “I thought-”

“I know what you thought,” Jon said and he closed the space between them, his hands sliding over her hips. “And don’t ever think that. I’m not him,” he then whispered. 

Sansa closed her eyes and nodded her head, her hands gliding up his arms. His coat was cold and she shivered a little, but stepped even further into him until their fronts pressed together. “When I saw her in your flat… I didn’t mean to compare. I know you’re not him,” she said softly. 

Jon rested his forehead against hers. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t tell you that I was studying with Val because I didn’t want you to immediately jump to conclusions. I thought I was helping.”

Sansa shook her head at that. “Don’t keep things from me. I can’t stand secrets.”

“Never,” Jon agreed. “I love you.”

That made her smile. “You never keep that from me,” she said and he smiled a little, too. “I love you, too,” she then said on a sigh and Jon tilted his head slightly so his lips could fuse to hers. 

“Will you come to the pub with me? I really do want everyone to meet you,” Jon said. 

“I don’t know,” Sansa said with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to embarrass you. I probably won’t know anything about what any of you are talking about.”

Jon’s brow furrowed at that. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know anything about laws or cases… what?” She asked when he saw him beginning to smile.

“None of us know anything. That’s why we’re in school,” Jon said. 

She rolled her eyes and smiled at that, too, and he leaned in for another kiss. 

“I’m not dressed for a night at the pub,” Sansa said and they looked down to the hooded sweatshirt and the yoga pants she had changed into the instant she got home. 

“I think you look beautiful,” Jon said and she could have been wearing boxers and a tank top and be covered in chicken pox and she knew that he would say the same thing and actually mean it. “We can just stay in tonight. We have your sandwiches to eat and I could still study a bit more.”

“No,” Sansa shook her head. “Let’s go meet your friends.”

“If that’s what you really want to do,” he agreed. “But only if it’s what you want to do. I’m not going to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Sansa was now the one to lean in and kiss him first this time. 

Jon began smiling and she looked at him closely.

“What?” 

He shook his head, but kept smiling. “You were jealous,” he then pointed out to her as if nothing better had ever happened to him. 

“I was not,” Sansa immediately denied. 

“Yes, you were. The most beautiful woman in the world was jealous,” Jon said, his arms tightening around her waist, keeping her as close to him as their bodies could stand together. 

“Beautiful or not, I’m still a woman and well, can you blame me? I mean, you have two good eyes. You’ve seen Val,” Sansa huffed a little.

Jon smiled and bent his head down, pressing his face to the side of her throat, kissing the skin there and inhaling her scent. “I just only ever see you and when I do see a woman, the only thing I do is immediately compare her to you.” 

And Sansa believed him without a doubt. What had he ever done that would make her doubt him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

…


	5. Blessing Granted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t posed as a question, but Jon answered it as if it was. “I’ve never been happier. I never realized how miserable I was until I began seeing Sansa.”

…

Jon took a deep breath, and then another, as he got out of his car and walked towards the front door. 

He told himself that there was no reason for him to be nervous, but he also knew that that was a big damn lie. There were too many reasons to be nervous right now for him to count. He went over the speech he had been rehearsing in his head for almost a week now. It sounded just right to him when he said it to himself in the bathroom mirror each morning. He just hoped that he was able to deliver the whole thing without stumbling or throwing up. 

He rang the doorbell and waited and with ach passing second, his stomach sank a little closer to his feet.

“Jon!” Catelyn Stark answered the door, smiling when she saw that it was him. 

Jon did his best to smile and not look as nervous as he felt. “Hi, Aunt Catelyn.”

It had taken him some time getting used to calling her that, but now, the title left his mouth easily. 

He stepped across the threshold into the front hall and Catelyn embraced him into a warm hug. 

When he had been growing up, the woman had always confused him, Jon admitted to himself. Catelyn and Ned had only been married for a couple of months before Ned had to leave for a business trip. And when he returned just a week later, he had a newborn Jon in his arms and telling her that this was his son. 

Jon knew that if Catelyn had truly believed that, the woman would have had every right in the world to have very little regard for him. 

But she hadn’t and Ned told her the truth of Jon being his sister’s son and they had raised him alongside their own children as if he was one of their own, figuring it would be best to not tell any of them the truth as a way of protecting the memory of the deceased Lyanna Stark. 

“You’re not eating enough,” Catelyn frowned at him as she pulled her arms away and closed the door. 

“I do alright,” he shrugged with a small, amused smile. “Sansa makes sure I remember to eat.”

“Good, but I’m making lunch nonetheless,” she said and with that, she headed towards the kitchen. 

Jon followed her. “Is Uncle Ned here? I was hoping to speak with you both about something.”

“Is everything alright?” She asked as she took the loaf of bread from the drawer. 

“Yes. Just need to speak with you both.” 

“He’s in his study, but I’m sure once he smells lunch, he’ll be right in,” Catelyn smiled. “Now sit and tell me all about your classes this semester. How is everything going? How is Sansa?”

Jon smiled a little at that as he slid onto the stool at the breakfast counter. “You see her each Sunday.”

“And you see her the six other days of the week,” Catelyn reminded him. “How are you both?”

Both Sansa and Jon had been nervous to break the news to her parents of their relationship when it began five months earlier; after he kissed her outside of that pub in Deepwood Motte. 

“We don’t have to tell them,” Jon had been the one to say two days later when he and Sansa both knew that it hadn’t been just a random, one-time kiss between them; that both wanted to keep this going and to see what possible places it could go.

Sansa had been the one to shake her head. “I don’t want to keep this a secret,” she had frowned a little at the mere suggestion. “If we’re going to be together, we can’t keep it from everyone forever.” Sansa had paused and studied him for a moment. “Do you want to keep us a secret?” She then asked in a quiet voice that wasn’t Sansa at all; a tone he had only heard a few times when she was feeling unsure. 

Jon had stepped to her and with his hands on her cheeks, he gave her a kiss – firm and hard – so she wouldn’t think that again. He already knew that he wanted to walk outside and shout to all of Westeros that could hear that he was with Sansa Stark now. 

But despite their nerves, when they had told her parents before anyone else, Catelyn and Ned had both been smiling these smiles as if they had already known this and was just waiting for the announcement. 

Sansa clutched Jon’s hand as if she was still anticipating the impact. 

“You don’t… I mean, you’re fine with it?” Sansa asked her parents, hardly believing it. 

“We already know that Jon is a good young man and we can clearly see that you care for each other,” Catelyn had said. Both Jon and Sansa seemed slightly surprised at that. “Sansa, you’re clinging to Jon’s hand like it’s a lifeline and haven’t let go of it yet and Jon isn’t the best at masking his emtions.” 

That only made Jon feel further confused. 

Ned was the one to answer, smiling like his wife. “At Sansa and Harry’s official engagement party, it looked as if you wanted to kick his head off with jealousy.”

Sansa looked at him with surprise at that and Jon had just blushed a little and hadn’t said anything against it because it had been the truth. Seeing that swarmy bastard with his arm around Sansa as if she was the grand prize in some contest, Jon had spent the entire evening, glaring into his drink when not glaring at the git and not understanding why he would be jealous of his half-sister’s fiancé.

“She’s good,” Jon said now, answering his aunt’s question, unable to stop the soft smile from spreading across his face as if just thinking about Sansa made him smile. “We’re both good. I have a couple of big exams coming up and she’s beginning to help me with studying. She loves making flashcards.”

Catelyn smiled at that. “Good. I’m glad it’s going good between you two. Not that I thought it wouldn’t.” 

Jon watched as she poured three cans of tomato soup into a saucepan on the stove and then began constructing the cheese sandwiches to grill. Grilled cheese and tomato soup was a staple of the Stark diet.

It always reminded Jon of cold winter nights and the whole family sitting together at the table for supper, talking about their days; of Catelyn telling Rickon not to slurp his soup and for Arya to stop tossing crusts across the table at Bran and vice versa and always commenting that Robb and Jon were eating her out of house and home when they always ate three sandwiches each. Sansa had been the only one to sit there, being perfectly proper as always – sitting perfectly straight in her chair, taking small bites of her sandwich, blowing on her soup carefully before each sip, wiping her mouth and fingers on the napkin draped across her lap. 

“Thank you for saying that,” Jon heard himself saying quietly. 

“My daughter is the happiest I have ever seen her,” Catelyn said, giving him a smile. “And you’re happy as well.”

It wasn’t posed as a question, but Jon answered it as if it was. “I’ve never been happier. I never realized how miserable I was until I began seeing Sansa.”

Catelyn laughed though as if that is perhaps one of the funniest things she had ever heard and Jon felt a little proud of himself for making her do so. Catelyn Stark was a kind woman and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her family, but everyone knew that she was a woman more on the serious side of things. Just like her oldest daughter, Catelyn had been raised before her to be prim and proper at all times. Sansa was a true reflection of her mother. 

Jon’s mind wandered over to thoughts of his and Sansa’s own daughter. He assumed they would have a daughter. He hoped so. They had already discussed havnig children. Sons and daughters, he didn’t care what they had. He just knew he wanted a lot of them and Sansa seemed to be in agreement of that. 

He wondered if Sansa would want to raise their daughters the way she had been raised; teaching her how to be the perfect lady complete with etiquette lessons like Sansa had had. Would Sansa want their daughter to be betrothed to man of their choosing as well? He honestly didn’t know how he felt about that, but if it was something Sansa wanted for their daughter… 

He was getting far too ahead of himself. First things had to be first. 

“I thought I smelled lunch,” Ned said with a wide smile, coming down the hallway into the kitchen. He saw Jon and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said to him. 

Suddenly, Jon felt his throat grow dry at the sight of his uncle; the man who had raised him as his son. 

“I…” Jon paused to clear his throat and he slid from the stool so he was standing as well. “I came in hopes of speaking with you and Aunt Catelyn about something.” 

Ned looked over to his wife for a moment before looking back to Jon. “Sounds serious.”

“It’s not,” Jon quickly assured him, shaking his head. “Well, I don’t think it is. I mean, it is, but it’s not-”

Ned’s chuckling cut him off. “What’s taken you so long?” He asks. 

“Excuse me?” Jon asked, but he could see the look Ned and Catelyn exchanged with one another and his speech flew from his head. He lost all recollection of the words he had wanted to say to them both. 

“Do you have a ring already, dear?” Catelyn asked as she finished grilling one sandwich in the frying pan and slid it onto a plate and began grilling the next. 

“A… ring?” Jon heard himself echo as if he had never heard the word before. 

“For when you propose,” Ned said, still chuckling a little. He went to take three bowls down from the cabinet so he could begin laddling the soup into each. “That is what we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“Yes…?” Jon answered, but he sounded so unsure and Ned and Catelyn smiled as if this was the most amusing thing to ever happen to them. “Yes,” Jon caught himself and said the word more firmly. “Yes, that’s what we’re talking about. Yes, I have a ring and yes, I’m going to propose to Sansa. With both of you giving me permission, of course,” he was sure to add. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen the sun in days,” Catelyn commented. “Let’s eat lunch out in the sunroom.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Ned smiled in agreement. “Jon, grab that tray.”

Jon snapped into action even though he felt as if his mind was still trying to catch up and he took the tray with the three plates of sandwichs and Ned carried the tray with the bowls of soup and after collecting a pitcher of water and three glasses, she lead the way from the kitchen out onto the sunroom that they had built onto the back of the house while all of the children had still be just that. 

They sat down at the table in the middle of the room and began eating their lunches. 

“So have you thought of how you’re going to propose to her?” Catelyn was the one to break the silence. 

Jon swallowed his mouthful of soup and it was too hot and seared his throat on the way down. “Sort of. Not all of the logistics, but,” he cleared his throat. “I hoped to do it as soon as I had your permission.”

“You don’t need our permission, Jon, to propose to Sansa. You have our blessing, but you’re both adults and are free to get married if that’s what you both want,” Ned reminded him. 

“I want that more than anything,” Jon said, looking back and forth between his aunt and uncle. “And I think it’s what Sansa wants too. I’ve been trying to see. I don’t want her to feel like she’s rushing into anything after the whole Harry thing-”

“You are nothing like, Harry, Jon,” Catelyn cut him off. “Sansa knows that and she loves you.”

Jon exhaled a deep breath. “I love her, too. More than anything.”

He had thought that maybe saying those words to her parents would have embarrassed for some reason, but he didn’t feel that in the least. Instead, he spoke with confidence and he felt that confidence in his chest. That was what loving Sansa did for him. It made him feel like he was capable of doing anything. 

“Well, then, you have our blessing. Now how are you going to do it?” Ned asked. “No sailboats.”

Jon smiled a little and shook his head quickly. “Definitely not.”

Harry had proposed on a sailboat. Even though they had been betrothed since they were small children, Harry had proposed to Sansa officially nonetheless. He had rented a sailboat and decorated it in white twinkle lights and took her out on the water, where he had champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries and Sansa had told everyone with ears about it for the days to follow. 

Jon couldn’t do the same thing. He didn’t want to do the same thing. That wasn’t him and while that might have been the thing Sansa might have liked while with Harry, Jon’s Sansa was different than Harry’s Sansa. Since the break of their engagement and betrothal, and without the pressures of having to be some perfect highborn daughter, Sansa had seemed to relax – considerably. And Jon had wondered – more than once – if she would have been like this her whole life without the pressures put upon her. 

She wore sweats and jeans more, went out without makeup, and her hair was often thrown up into a sloppy knot. She still got herself dressed up every day for school, but on her down time, she chose comfort over anything else and Jon had never found her to be more beautiful. And when they went to the pub to hang out with his friends from school, she still managed to turn heads in her direction. She didn’t have to look constantly as if she was posing for a magazine and he had told her that more than once. She could if that was what she wanted, but Jon made sure that she knew he loved her no matter how she looked. He knew that most of their relationship was him spending it, making sure she knew that he wasn’t Harry. He’d lose it if she ever thought the two men ever had even the slightest thing in common. 

Jon cleared his throat. “I have an idea. I would need Lady and Ghost to cooperate with me though…”

He then proceeded to tell them his plan and by the time he was done, Ned was beaming widely and Catelyn had tears in her eyes. 

“Yes,” Catelyn nodded her head. “Do it. Just like that.”

Jon gave them both a smile. “Thank you,” he said then though he wasn’t entirely too sure for what. 

For their blessing and for wanting him to marry their daughter; for raising him and loving him and though the secret they had kept from him had been monumental and he still didn’t entirely understand why they had done it in the first place, they had taken care of him for all of these years as well as they had with all of their other children. 

He grew up knowing what love was because of these two people sitting at the table with him. 

Catelyn looked seconds away now from bursting into tears and Ned looked a little misty-eyed as well, clapping a hand once again onto Jon’s shoulder. 

They all heard the front door burst open and then slam shut again. They then heard Arya’s demanding voice ring out. 

“Who was eating grilled cheese and tomato soup without me?” 

…


	6. No Cause for Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And tonight, she seemed to practically be emitting a glow and Jon felt like he was having difficulty looking at her for too long; as if he was trying to stare into the sun. 
> 
> Jon couldn’t stop trying though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place before the events of "What Is Expected" so Jon does not know the truth of his parentage and Sansa and Harry are still engaged.

…

“There isn’t enough liquor in the world for this,” Robb muttered before finishing the rest of his fourth old-fashioned, the ice cubes clinking together in the now empty glass. 

Jon did not say anything in reply, but he agreed completely. This night had been unbearable and he wondered why the hell he was still there. He could have gone home hours ago and no one would have even noticed. No one was paying attention to much of anyone else except the happy couple. The Stark’s backyard was jammed pack with those who had come to celebrate the engagement between the oldest Stark daughter, Sansa, and her betrothed, Harrold Hardyng. People were already saying that it was going to be the wedding of the year. 

Jon didn’t understand why the more he heard people say that, the more he felt like he was going to throw up all over the grass. He hadn’t had nearly as much to drink as Robb had that evening. 

His eyes kept finding Sansa. No matter how many people there were there, no matter how often she moved among them all, he was always able to find her. Jon told himself that he was staring and he didn’t know why, but he just told himself that it was her party and he wasn’t the only one looking at her. 

Sansa looked so beautiful that night; more beautiful than he could ever remember her looking before and that was pretty incredible because Sansa was always beautiful. People had been saying it to Ned and Catelyn for her entire life. Sansa Stark was the most beautiful young woman in all of the North. 

And tonight, she seemed to practically be emitting a glow and Jon felt like he was having difficulty looking at her for too long; as if he was trying to stare into the sun. 

Jon couldn’t stop trying though. 

Sansa and Catelyn had bought a new dress of gold and white for Sansa for the party; one that fit her perfectly and highlighted her red hair, which she wore in a braid pulled over her shoulder. For the entire evening, she had spent it at Harry’s side; at her fiancé’s side, laughing and talking with all who had come to wish the happy couple their congratulations, and Harry stood at her side, his hand either resting on her hip or the small of her back and he was smiling, too, and yet, there was something about it that bothered Jon and he found himself watching Harry nearly as much as he was watching Sansa that evening. 

He told himself that he was just staring at Sansa because she was his sister – half-sister – and Robb was getting too drunk right now and it fell onto Jon to watch over her. Though why he would have to, he didn’t know. Sansa was happy. Sansa was getting married to the man she had been betrothed to since she was a small girl and the Stark and Hardyng families had drawn up the proper agreement papers. Sansa had been waiting for this night for most of her life. Jon didn’t have to watch out for her. She had a fiancé now and that man would be the one to look out for her now. Sansa had no use for her brothers now. Or half-brother. 

Jon downed the rest of his own drink at that thought and turned for the nearest temporary bar that had been erected in the yard for that evening. 

It wasn’t as if he had to look out for her anyway. Sansa had… well, she had never cared for him, to be honest. At least, that was the impression he always got from her. She tolerated him because he was family and he and Robb were practically inseparable and Sansa loved her true brother so she knew that to have Robb, she would have to have Jon, too. 

Things had gotten better as they had gotten older and had both gone off to different universities – Sansa studying to become a teacher and Jon deciding that he would become a lawyer. Each time they returned home for either the summer or winter breaks, Jon was still caught off guard when Sansa smiled at him and gave him a hug and told him that it was good to see him. It always stunned him and he was never able to hug her in return – even though sometimes, the only thing he wanted to do was hug her. 

When he went to the bar, Robb came with him and while Robb got another old-fashioned, Jon decided to just stick with beer. It would give him a nice buzz, but it would keep him from getting completely black-out drunk, which seemed to be Robb’s goal for the evening. Despite how much he hated Harry, Jon didn’t want to ruin this night for Sansa. 

After getting a fresh bottle of beer, Jon stood with Robb as he waited for his drink to be mixed and once again, Jon found himself looking back towards Sansa and Harry. Mainly Sansa. The party-planning committee that Catelyn had hired for the festivities that evening had strung Japanese lanterns throughout all of the trees in the backyard and there was a small band playing soft background music and Sansa was standing on the steps that led up to the back patio, her arm looped through Harry’s, and she was laughing that someone was saying to her. 

Jon had always known his half-sister was beautiful, but tonight, it was becoming painfully obvious to him just how radiant she was. 

And then he would scowl and shake his head at himself. She was his half-sister. He wasn’t supposed to look at her and think that she was radiant, but then, a few minutes later, he’d be back to looking at her and the whole thing started all over again. He was a sick bastard. He really was. And he was glad that Robb was getting plastered because he wasn’t able to notice that Jon couldn’t stop staring at Sansa. 

She laughed at something then – light and free – and it carried across the yard right to Jon and he closed his eyes as if Sansa laughing was causing him physical pain. And he supposed, in a way, it was doing exactly that. He felt as if he was suffering from heartburn, something searing him right up the sternum, and he took a quick guzzle of beer while trying to shift his attention to Harry instead. Arya called him a dandy behind his back and though Jon never said one thing or another to the description, he silently agreed. The man carried about the latest fashions and his outwardly appearance as much as Sansa did. 

Jon hoped that the house Harry and Sansa lived in once married had plenty of mirrors so the couple wouldn’t fight in the morning as they got themselves ready for the day. 

Harry was smiling at the partygoers – the same that Sansa was doing – and yet, Jon looked at the man’s smile and he didn’t know what it was, but he just didn’t like it. It was his engagement party and yet, despite his smile, he just didn’t seem as happy as one should have been if he was going to marry the woman that he loved. Sansa was so happy, everyone in the party could feel it as if they been enveloped in a warm, long hug. Harry, on the other hand, was smiling because it seemed to be what he was supposed to be doing tonight. 

Jon wished he knew why the hell he was so bothered by Harry’s smile and lack of enthusiasm. 

He knew that if tonight was his engagement party, if he was the one to be marrying Sansa-

Jon gave himself a fierce frown and stopped those thoughts in their tracks. Where in the seven hells did those thoughts even come from?

She was his sister. 

His half-sister, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him. 

As if that made any sort of difference. A sister was a sister. 

“Hi, Robb.”

Both Robb and Jon turned their heads to see that it was Jeyne Westerling, smiling shyly at her own betrothed. 

Like Harry and Sansa, the Stark and Westerling families came to a betrothal agreement while both Robb and Jeyne were young children, but Robb still had yet to properly propose to her. Jon wondered what his brother was waiting for. Robb had confided in Jon – more than once – that he was very fond of Jeyne. 

And just at the site of her, suddenly, Robb seemed quite sober. “Hello, Jeyne,” he said with a slight nod. 

Jeyne smiled at him once more and then looked to Jon. “Hi, Jon.”

“Hi, Jeyne,” Jon smiled at her and then looked to Robb, who was staring at her. 

Robb straightened and cleared his throat. “Jeyne, would you like to go inside with me? My mother just bought a new painting and I know how much you love art.”

Jeyne visibly blushed under the soft light of the lanterns. “I would love to see it.”

Jon said nothing, but he smirked around the opening of his beer bottle. Catelyn hadn’t bought any art lately, but he wasn’t about to blow Robb’s story. He watched the couple walk off and as he did, his eyes, once again, landed upon Sansa. Still standing on the steps, Harry is no longer at her side and Sansa is speaking on her own with people who come up to her to congratulate her. 

Jon watched her for a moment and took another sip of his beer. 

He found himself missing Ygritte quite suddenly. He hadn’t missed his ex-girlfriend in the year since they had split, but suddenly, right in that moment, he missed her. Not her, necessarily. They had parted on good terms and Jon actually considered his ex still as a friend. They just hadn’t made a good couple together. But right now, Jon wished that Ygritte was here, at his side, because she would be able to distract him. Her company would keep from looking – staring – at his half-sister and wishing that he was the one at her side, making her smile like the sun. 

Jon set his beer down on the bar and with Harry still absent from Sansa’s side, Jon found himself crossing the yard, walking towards her, not thinking about what he was doing right now. It was best if he didn’t think about it at all.

Sansa had just finished speaking with a few partygoers and when she turned her head, she saw Jon coming towards her and Jon tried to ignore the bright smile on her face. His stomach clenched at the sight of it; clenched in a way that it should not have at the sight of his sister smiling at him. Half-sister, he reminded himself because apparently, the “half” could not be said enough. 

“Jon,” Sansa said and it sounded as if she was sighing while saying his name, truly happy to see him. 

Jon smiled at her and leaned in, kissing her cheek. “You look beautiful, Sansa,” he told her. 

“Thank you,” she said graciously. “You look quite handsome,” she then said, smiling, and he smiled at little, too. 

“Where’s Harry?” Jon asked, looking around, before settling his eyes back on Sansa. 

If he was marrying her, nothing would be able to pull him from her side. 

Jon would love to know where these thoughts were coming from. They were as wrong as thoughts could get. 

“He had to go for a smoke,” Sansa said and did so with a slight wrinkle in her nose. 

Jon had been trying to quit smoking for some time now, the stress of Law School not making it easy on him. He suddenly had the urge to try a lot harder. 

“But you’re here now. Please keep me company until he gets back?” She asked him. 

Without letting him respond, she slipped an arm through his and smiled as she gently pulled him until he was standing at her side. Jon looked to her again and she was smiling at him once again. Jon stared at her face, into her eyes, and the clenching in his stomach tightened so much, it was as if he was being punched again and again. 

But he did not leave her side. Sansa wanted him there and Jon found that he wasn’t able to think of any reason as to why he should walk away and leave her. 

Someone else came up to congratulate Sansa. The photographer that Ned and Catelyn had hired for the party came and took a picture of them and the whole time, Sansa kept smiling and she kept her arm through Jon’s. 

Jon didn’t say anything. He just remained standing at Sansa’s side, looking at her and feeling her warmth and listening to her laugh and he hoped that Harry was a slow smoker. 

…


	7. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ha!” Sansa gleefully said once they were alone at the table. 
> 
> “Alright,” Jon conceded. “You’re brilliant. Those two make absolutely no sense together, but you’re brilliant.”

…

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to go to the bathroom when his best friend and Sansa’s best friend had yet to return to the table, but Jon was only thinking with his bladder and not what he could possibly walk upon – until he actually walked upon it. 

Jon had voiced the idea in passing a month earlier – not sure if he actually meant for it to be taken seriously or not – but the next day, Sansa had jumped on it and made the arrangements, thinking that it was such a far-fetched idea that made little sense and therefore, it was perfect. Her best friend, Myrcella Baratheon, and his best friend, Tormund Giantsbane, were such a mix-match of a couple, “Jon, they could be soul mates!” Sansa had exclaimed excitedly before calling Myrcella with the idea. 

And Jon had been with Sansa long enough to know that she was completely serious and there was no getting out of this so with a sigh, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Tormund Giantsbane. 

**JON:** Sansa wants to set you up with one her friends. 

He then went through his photo roll, finding a picture he had taken of Sansa and Myrcella one night at the pub and he sent to that him as well. 

He was lying on the bed and knowing that Tormund wouldn’t respond right away, Jon pulled himself to his feet and went into the kitchen. Sansa had a carton of ice cream buried in the back of her freezer – that she didn’t think he knew about – and he found it and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. He was leaning against the counter, eating directly from the carton, when Sansa came in, her phone to her ear. 

“I promise, Myrcella. He’s wonderful. Jon and Tormund met in undergrad,” Sansa was saying and then paused to listen to Myrcella’s response. “From the North.”

She took a spoon from the drawer and then leaned next to him, Jon smiling around his own spoon as he held the carton of strawberry ice cream closer to her for her to dig in as well. 

“I’ll send you a picture of him,” Sansa promised. “And even if you don’t like him romantically, Tormund is so funny, you’ll like him as a person. I promise.”

Sansa took another spoonful of ice cream and then turned, putting her spoon in the sink. She gave Jon a kiss on his cheek that was cold on his skin before leaving the kitchen once again. 

Jon helped himself to another couple spoons of ice cream before putting his spoon in the sink, the carton back in the freezer and leaving the kitchen as well. He returned to Sansa’s bedroom and flopped back onto her bed once again, picking up his phone. Tormund had responded. 

**TORMUND:** Hell, yeah, mate! 

Jon smiled and put his phone back down, knowing he would be texting Tormund the further details once Sansa had made them. 

He still didn’t think this was a very good idea, in his mind, but he was keeping that to himself. Tormund and Myrcella… they were just too different. Jon couldn’t think of a single thing that they could possibly have in common. Myrcella may have lived in the North now, in Wintertown, but she was from the South. And not just the South, but King’s Landing. Her mother’s family were Lannister’s and were as wealthy and powerful as a family in Westeros could possibly be. Myrcella was the very definition of highbred. She was pale and blonde and fragile in body. 

Tormund was absolutely everything that Myrcella was not. Big and loud and always ready for a right whether there was a fight to be had or not. He was from the North – very north. He had been born and raised north of the wall among a group of people who had shunned all ways of life in Westeros and who followed no rules, but their own. There were many stories and legends about the group, they were called the Wild People, but they were mostly quiet and kept to themselves and occasionally, one or two would come down past the Wall and live. It always amazed Jon – who had known Tormund since they met when Jon was a first year in university – that Tormund would be one of the ones to leave. He was a wild man meant for a wild life. 

Myrcella Baratheon was as far from being wild as any person could get. 

“Alright, Myrcella has agreed!” Sansa announced as she practically bounced into the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed and stretched out next to Jon. “Did you ask Tormund?” She asked. 

Jon’s eyes had fallen closed as he kept them closed even as he rolled towards Sansa and his head found her shoulder, his arm sliding across her stomach. “He’s in,” he said. 

“Wonderful. I think we should just go to Wolfwood Pub for drinks after work,” Sansa said. 

“You lied, by the way,” Jon felt the need to point out to her. 

“About what?”

“You told Myrcella that I met Tormund in the first year of university.”

“But you did.”

“Aye, but you made it sound as if Tormund had been an undergrad, too,” Jon said and finally opened his eyes to look at her. 

Sansa didn’t deny that; more than aware of what she had done and how she had worded what she had said to Tormund. It wasn’t as if she thought Myrcella to really care whether Tormund had gone to university or not, but she figured she had to tweak things just a little to get Myrcella through the door in the first place for a blind date. She was still fixing her heart from her breakup with her fiancé, Dickon Tarly, and Sansa knew all about taking time after a breakup, but she truly felt that this would be good for Myrcella; to get out there again and spend her time with someone completely different from Dickon Tarly and Tormund definitely fit that description. 

“Well, I can’t tell Myrcella everything about Tormund,” Sansa finally said. “If I did, they would have nothing to talk about.”

Jon just smiled his little smile at that and nuzzled in closer to her and didn’t say anything.

…

Jon wasn’t going to lie. He just didn’t see how this blind date would go well – even with him and Sansa there to try and fill in awkward silences. Well, Sansa would mainly handle that. 

Tormund worked at Wolfwood Pub as a bartender, but he had gotten the night off for his date with Myrcella. Jon had gotten out of class and had gone right to the pub, getting his first mug of mead and both went to go sit in a booth, waiting for the women to arrive. 

“Tell me about her ex,” Tormund said before taking a chug from his own mug, some of the mead’s froth clinging to his red beard. 

Jon shrugged. “I don’t know him that well. I’m best friends with his brother, Sam. You know Sam.”

Tormund nodded that yes, he did. “So, her ex was a short, round fellow?”

Jon shook his head. “Not exactly…” The door opened and Jon sat up a little straighter as both Sansa and Myrcella entered the pub. Tormund followed Jon’s eyes and turned to see the women and Jon watched his friend’s reaction to Myrcella. 

He had already seen her picture, but seeing her in person might be a little different. 

And the way Tormund sat up a little straighter and then pulled himself from the booth, meeting them halfway, let Jon know that Tormund definitely liked what he saw. Sansa beamed as she let Tormund and Myrcella alone and came the rest of the way to Jon and their booth. 

“Hi,” she smiled, looking quite pleased with herself, and she leaned in, giving him a peck on his lips. “How was class?” She asked.

“Good. Boring. Copyright laws,” Jon answered simply and stood up to help her take her coat off. “How was school?”

“The children were absolute monsters today. I definitely need a drink,” Sansa said. She then turned to ask Myrcella if she would like something to drink, but she and Tormund were still standing, facing one another, and whatever Tormund was saying, it was making Myrcella blush. 

Sansa turned back towards Jon and gave him a look, clearly saying _I told you so_. 

Jon simply smirked at her and said nothing and with a light hand on the small of her back, he guided her towards the bar so they could get her a drink. 

As they waited for Sansa’s Alfie Cocktail, Myrcella laughed then and it rang lightly throughout the pub and both Jon and Sansa turned to see that Tormund and Myrcella heading towards their booth now, Tormund grinning as he talked and Myrcella positively beaming up at him. 

“This makes no sense,” Jon said before he could stop himself. 

Sansa laughed at that and bumped him playfully with her shoulder. “I am a wonderful matchmaker,” she said and then looked to the bartender, thanking him as he finished her drink and passed it to her. 

Jon couldn’t help, but smirk at that. “I think you got lucky.”

Sansa bumped him again. 

At the booth, Myrcella was sitting closest to the wall and Tormund was sitting next to her. Sansa slid in so she sat across from Myrcella and Jon sat down beside her. As he sipped his mug of mead, Jon couldn’t help, but look at the couple across from him. Myrcella with her blonde hair and dark blue dress that she had worn to school that day where she taught second grade and Tormund in his ripped jeans and thick sweater with his red hair and wild, matching beard. 

“And she took my heart and threw it across the room, giving it a kick for good measure. Left me for some sod in the South,” Tormund was saying. “No offense,” he was quick to add. 

Myrcella smiled and shook her head. “That’s alright. Most men from the South are sods. That’s why I made the decision to move to the North.”

Tormund grinned at that. “Aye. You’ll find nothing, but real men up here,” he said and gave her a wink and Myrcella visibly blushed. 

“Technically, you were never dating Brienne,” Jon pointed out to him. 

Tormund frowned at him. “What does that have to do with anything?” He asked and Jon bit back a smile as he shrugged. 

He leaned back in the bench seat and slid his arm out so it rested behind Sansa and Sansa sipped her cocktail, leaning in closer to him. Jon turned his head and brushed his lips along her temple. 

“Aren’t they disgusting?” Tormund asked. 

Myrcella laughed gently at that. “They really are.”

Tormund gave Jon a grin. “When are you going to ask this fire beauty to marry you, Snow?”

Jon frowned at him and couldn’t help, but swiftly give him a kick in the shin beneath the table. Tormund just laughed and took a swig of his drink. 

Tormund knew that Jon had already asked his Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn for permission to marry Sansa. He just was choosing the absolute perfect moment to propose to her and he admitted that he was dragging his feet a bit. Not because he didn’t want to marry Sansa. He would marry her tonight if possible. But he was stalling because he wanted his proposal to her to be absolutely perfect and he didn’t know if his idea of how to ask her would be. 

He wasn’t afraid of too many things in the world, but screwing up proposing to Sansa was definitely now near the top of the short list. 

“I feel like I must confess something,” Myrcella said and she instantly had Tormund’s attention. “The woman you were speaking of, Brienne, she is involved with my Uncle Jaime.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t… that just completely slipped my mind. I can’t believe I didn’t remember that.”

Tormund shook his head and then shrugged. “Not your fault, love,” he said to Myrcella.

Myrcella blushed lightly again. “And I know you won’t believe me, but my Uncle Jaime isn’t a sod. Probably the only one in my family who I can say that about. Him and my little brother, Tommen.”

“Is that why you moved up here?” Tormund asked. “You are the first girl I have met from the South who had willingly moved up here.”

Myrcella nodded. “I definitely wanted a change and I don’t regret it at all. It’s so different from King’s Landing and though King’s Landing is wonderful, Wintertown is wonderful in a new way. Have you ever been to King’s Landing?” She then asked. 

Jon couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Tormund might burst into flames if he went any further south than he did when he came past the Wall.”

“This is as south as I’ll ever go,” Tormund agreed. “And it’s already too damn warm for me.”

Myrcella was looking at Tormund with slightly wide eyes. “You’re from beyond the Wall?” She asked, slightly hushed. “I didn’t… I thought the Wild People never came past the Wall. Oh! I’m sorry. Am I allowed to say that? Wild People?”

Tormund broke into a grin as he watched her getting flustered. “Aye, you can say that. It’s what we are.” He leaned in a little closer to her. “We’re wild,” he whispered and Myrcella’s pale skin was completely flushed now as she looked into his eyes. 

Sansa turned her head and looked to Jon with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile; that same look. _I told you._

Jon just smirked and kissed her temple again. 

“Was your fiancé from the South then?” Tormund asked. 

“He was,” Myrcella gave a nod. “He… he’s definitely a sod.”

Tormund let out a laugh at that and Myrcella smiled as if pleased with his reaction. 

“Aye, he must be if he let you go anywhere without him,” Tormund agreed. Myrcella blushed, almost shyly, and Tormund slid out of the booth, holding out his hand. “We have to get you a drink,” he said and Myrcella nodded, taking his hand without pause and pulled herself from the booth, walking away with Tormund. 

“Ha!” Sansa gleefully said once they were alone at the table. 

“Alright,” Jon conceded. “You’re brilliant. Those two make absolutely no sense together, but you’re brilliant.”

“And don’t you ever forget it,” Sansa said.

“Would you actually let me?” Jon asked. 

“Nope,” she smiled and paused to take a sip of her cocktail. “For the rest of our lives, I will never let you forget that I am infinitely times more brilliant in all things,” she said, still teasing him with that same smile. 

Jon just stared at her though and felt a lump lodge itself in his throat. “For the rest of our lives?” He echoed. 

Sansa pulled herself back a little so she could look fully into his face. “Well… yes? I just thought… we’re not just having a bit of fun, are we?”

“Of course we’re not,” Jon swiftly said with a shake of his head. “I mean, we are having fun, but that’s not all this is.” Sansa didn’t say anything and kept looking at him and Jon slipped a hand to the back of her neck and moved in, kissing her on the lips. “For the rest of our lives,” he whispered and a small smile finally broke past Sansa’s lips and Jon kissed her again. “I have to go to the loo real quick. You want another cocktail on my way back?”

Sansa smiled and nodded. “Please.”

Jon smiled, too, and gave her one more kiss before pulling himself from the booth and headed towards the back hallway where the pub bathrooms were located. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to go to the bathroom when his best friend and Sansa’s best friend had yet to return to the table, but Jon was only thinking with his bladder and not what he could possibly walk upon – until he actually walked upon it. 

Myrcella was pressed against the wall, standing on her toes, and Tormund was towering in front of her, bent down. Myrcella’s arms were wrapped around his shoulders and one of Tormund’s hands was pressed to the wall behind Myrcella’s head and his other hand was gripping her hip. 

“You actually taste like sunshine. Didn’t know sunshine tasted like anything. Must be the South in you,” Tormund murmured and Myrcella smiled up at him. 

“You taste like snow,” she said to him softly and then pressed her mouth back to his. 

Tormund nearly growled as he kissed her fiercely in return, pressing her firmly against the wall.

Jon stood there as if he was incapable of moving; as if he didn’t quite understand what he was looking at. Tormund and Myrcella… no. It still made absolutely no sense in his head and yet, there they were, kissing one another as if they were providing oxygen to the other. Jon recognized those sorts of kisses. He and Sansa kissed in the same way. 

Forgetting all about going to the bathroom for the time being, Jon turned back around before they knew he was there and he headed to the bar, getting Sansa a fresh cocktail and another mug of mead for himself. 

“You have the funniest expression on your face right now,” Sansa laughed slightly as Jon returned to their booth, sitting down beside her once again and setting their drinks down. 

Jon just shook his head before he had no idea what to say. He sipped his mead and looked back towards the hallway where Tormund and Myrcella currently still were. A thought then occurred to him and he found himself smirking. 

“What, Jon?” Sansa said, moving closer to him, smiling as she looked to his face. 

Jon shook his head again, but he looked to Sansa and this time, he answered. “When Myrcella takes Tormund down to King’s Landing to meet Cersei Lannister, we should ask if we can come. I'm not going to want to miss that.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tormund/Myrcella are now my crack ship to end crack ships.


	8. I'll Protect You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of them knew what was going on and Ned and Catelyn were being close-lipped about the whole thing. The only thing they did know was that Sansa was upstairs in her bedroom, she didn’t want to see anyone, and Catelyn and Ned were taking meals up to her to eat because she wouldn’t be eating otherwise.

…

None of them knew what was going on and Ned and Catelyn were being close-lipped about the whole thing. The only thing they did know was that Sansa was upstairs in her bedroom, she didn’t want to see anyone, and Catelyn and Ned were taking meals up to her to eat because she wouldn’t be eating otherwise. 

It was beginning to drive everyone crazy – knowing something was going on, but having no idea what. Arya had banged her fist on Sansa’s bedroom door more than once, demanding to be let in, and they had all heard Sansa – trying to keep her voice steady, but all hearing it tremble nonetheless – as she told Arya that she was alright. Truly. She just wasn’t feeling well. 

“Bullshit,” Arya muttered as she, Robb and Jon sat on the couch in the den, playing some video game that Jon admitted to not really paying attention to. 

Ever since Sansa had come home, nothing had felt right. If the Stark home was a person, Jon could imagine the walls tightening as if they were wringing their hands, nervous and anxious, not knowing what was going on. Everything felt tight and too hot and the fact that Ned and Catelyn wouldn’t say anything certainly didn’t help at putting any of the kids at ease about whatever the situation was. 

Ned had been in his office all morning and they had heard him yelling on the phone – his voice muffled through the closed door, but they had all picked up a few choice words. 

“After what that man did…” and “I am not going to force my daughter into anything. I’ve already done that!”

“Harry,” Robb guessed and no one disagreed because it was really the only thing that made sense. 

Harry, Sansa’s fiancé, must have done something. The man was a complete jackass. It was a surprise to none of them that he had done something that had caused Ned to spend his morning, yelling, and to cause Sansa to lock herself away in her bedroom, not wanting to see anyone. 

Jon wanted to go up and see her; knock on her door like Arya had done, albeit a bit gentler. He wanted to sit with her and if she wanted to talk, great, but if not, that was okay, too. Jon understood how sometimes, a person just needed to be quiet and be alone with their thoughts. He wanted to put his arm around her and hold her and tell her that Harry was a complete asshole and he didn’t deserve any part of her. 

Jon knew he would never be able to do any of that though. If Sansa hadn’t opened the door for her own sister, why would she ever open the door for him? He was just her half-brother. He had gotten much better of reminding himself of that over the past few months; ever since Sansa and Harry’s engagement party and he entertained himself by imagining all sorts of ways of murdering Harry. Jon knew that he had been jealous in a way that a brother – half or not – should not have been towards their sister’s fiancé and had worked on reminding himself just why he shouldn’t have felt jealousy in regards to Sansa and her relationship with a man; any man. 

“Robb. Jon.”

Robb paused the game and both turned their heads as Catelyn entered the den, looking worried and worn. 

“I need you to drive to Harry’s flat,” she said. 

No sooner had she said the words that Jon was already sitting up on the couch, grabbing his sneakers from where he had kicked them off and tugging them back on. 

“What does she need?” Robb asked, standing up. 

Sansa hadn’t lived with Harry. She hadn’t wanted to live together until after the wedding, but she had spent plenty of time there with him. 

“She says there’s not that much of hers there,” Catelyn said. “But I’d feel better if everything is just brought here.”

Arya sat up in the recliner. “Does this mean Sansa and Harry aren’t getting married?” She asked the question they all wanted to know the answer to. They weren’t children anymore and Sansa was their sister. It wasn’t fair that their parents were hiding things from them as they were too young to handle them. 

Catelyn shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. It’s Sansa’s decision.” She looked to Robb and Jon. “Some of Lady’s things are there so make sure you get those things as well.”

“I can go with them,” Arya offered. 

“No, I’d rather you stay here,” Catelyn said. “Maybe try to talk with her again?”

“She’s not going to open the door,” Arya grumbled, but without argument, she pulled herself from her seat and left the room, heading to go back upstairs. 

Catelyn did her best to give Robb and Jon a smile – though it was small and she was clearly distracted. “Thank you both for giving up your Sunday afternoon to do this.” 

“Mom, what did Harry do?” Robb asked.

Catelyn opened her mouth and both Robb and Jon nearly held their breath, finally about to get their answer, but at the last moment, she shook her head. “Sansa will tell everyone when she’s ready to.”

Their heads turned when they heard the door to Ned’s office open and his head poked out. “Cat,” was all he said and she began moving towards him. 

“And if Harry’s at his flat, don’t start anything with him,” Catelyn told them from over her shoulder. “I mean it, Robb.”

Robb drove as Jon sat in the front passenger seat, his head turned as he looked out his window though his eyes weren’t really focusing on the passing scenery. 

His mind was racing with what Harry could have possibly done that would have Sansa sequestered in her bedroom, not seeing or speaking with anyone, and Ned yelling on his phone all morning. Harry wouldn’t have been stupid enough to hit her. Was he? 

Jon felt his fingers curl into fists at just the thought. 

“Harry wasn’t going to let her keep Lady,” Robb said suddenly and that got Jon to look away from the window to look at him instead. “He told me at their engagement party. He said that once they were married, he was going to have mum and dad take Lady so the dog couldn’t live with him and Sansa.”

“Sansa would never agree to that,” Jon said, shaking his head. 

Just as Ghost was with him, Lady was Sansa’s constant companion. Constant. The dog even waited for her obediently outside when Sansa was in one of the buildings, in class, on the university’s campus. She had been a gift to Sansa from Ned and Catelyn upon her high school graduation and there wasn’t anything in this world that would make Sansa part with her. 

“Sansa didn’t know,” Robb said. 

Jon’s fists curled a little tighter. 

At Harry’s flat, the entire second floor above a card shop, Robb parked on the street and he took out the key that Catelyn had given to him before they left. Sansa’s key. They unlocked the door and then headed up the stairs to the flat’s door. They paused outside and listened for a moment, trying to hear anything to alert them if Harry was inside, but there was nothing and Robb finally unlocked the door. 

It remained quiet and Harry wasn’t home. 

“I’m going to go pee on the bed,” Robb said without preamble. 

“Wait,” Jon said and moved past him, heading down the hallway into the bedroom. 

He saw a blue and grey quilt on the made bed, folded across the foot of it, that he knew was Sansa’s. He grabbed it and tossed it over his shoulder. “Now you can pee on it,” he told Robb and then began opening the drawers to the dresser, seeing if he would find any more of her things. 

Catelyn was right. There wasn’t too much in the flat that belonged to Sansa. She didn’t even have a toothbrush and he wondered if Sansa had ever spent the night here. There was the quilt across the bed, a pair of fleece pajama pants with grey wolves printed on them, her DVD copy of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ – her favorite movie; the 1968 version, which was the far superior version of any of them she had said more than once, and Jon even took the magazines on the coffee table that were hers and a few scattered hairpins. 

He was surprised to find a framed photograph she had of all of the Stark siblings taken one summer day at the Stark cabin on Long Lake. Robb was holding Rickon upside by his ankles, the boy laughing with glee. Bran had jumped onto Arya’s back, the girl nearly about to fall over though they had always weighed just about the same when they were younger like they were in the picture. 

And then, there was Jon and Sansa. Jon hated that he couldn’t remember the day the picture was taken because Sansa was actually hugging his side, both her arms around his waist, and his arm was dropped around her shoulders. Both were smiling. 

Looking down at the picture now, Jon felt that clenching in his stomach that was becoming all too familiar now anytime he looked at or even thought of Sansa; a clenching a half-brother should not have towards his half-sister. 

In the kitchen, Robb gathered Lady’s food and water dishes and the small bag of kibble that Sansa had brought and tossed a tennis ball into the box that he was fairly certain belonged to Lady, too, even though Harry did play tennis. Jon came into the kitchen and set his own box down. 

“Take her food, too,” Jon said. 

“Yeah?” Robb asked and then answered himself. “Yeah. Let the wanker starve.”

They took the bag of sour cream and onion crisps – Sansa’s favorite – a box of the granola bars they recognize as those that she usually ate and a jar of almond butter that they knew was definitely hers because she was always trying to tell them that there was no difference between that and peanut butter. Of course there was a difference and they always made sure that she knew what they thought about her disgusting almond butter whenever they saw her eating some. 

Harry still wasn’t there and they left after cleaning out the kitchen of all things Sansa and he still wasn’t back. Jon didn’t really care where he was because he knew that if he had walked through the door – even though they had no idea what had happened between him and Sansa and even though Catelyn had specifically told them not to – he and Robb both probably would have punched him. 

Back at home, Sansa still hadn’t come downstairs and was still locked in her room with Lady, but she had finally let Arya inside after Arya let he know that she had no problem pounding on the door all day. 

Catelyn kissed both Robb and Jon’s cheeks and thanked them when they returned and they set the boxes on the kitchen counter. 

“Now will you tell us what is going on?” Robb nearly demanded of her. 

Catelyn hesitated and then sighed. “You’ll know soon enough with your father making the phone calls to everyone right now.” She exhaled. “Your sister has called off her engagement to Harry,” she informed them and though they had a feeling that was what was going on, they were both visibly surprised. “We have to be gentle around her for a while,” Catelyn continued. “You can imagine how she’s feeling.”

Considering she wasn’t even coming downstairs to eat, it was fairly obvious how Sansa was feeling. 

She had been buying bridal magazines since she was thirteen-years-old and had been planning her wedding to Harry Hardyng for just as long. What the hell could have happened for her to call the engagement off? Harry was extremely lucky he didn’t come home when he and Robb were there, Jon thought to himself as he took his box, leaving the box with the food alone on the counter.

He took the stairs two at a time and at Sansa’s bedroom door, he hesitated a moment before knocking as gently as he could while still making sure that he would be able to be heard. 

“Hey, Sansa?” He spoke into the wood. “I, uh, I brought you a box of your things. Thought you might want them. There’s your quilt in here.” 

And I know how much you love having that, he said only to himself. 

He heard movement on the other side of the door and then, it was opened by Arya. 

“Thanks, Jon,” she said, taking the box from his arms. 

He couldn’t help, but look past Arya’s shoulder into the bedroom. Sansa was lying on her bed, Lady curled with her, and she wasn’t crying, but he seemed to have catch her in between cries because her face was flushed and he could see the red of her eyes even from the doorway. 

“Here, Sansa,” Arya set the box down and taking the quilt, she unfolded it and draped it over her sister. 

“Thank you,” Sansa said quietly. She then moved her eyes to Jon. “Thank you, Jon.” 

“You let me know if you need anything else,” he told her and he wanted to go and sit on the bed with her and hold her hand and let her cry, but he knew he could never do that. 

And wanting to do those things, even as her half-brother, it wasn’t the right thing to do because he knew that he didn’t want to comfort her as her half-brother. 

So Jon forced himself to leave the doorway and go back downstairs to the den where he wasted the rest of his afternoon, watching random television shows with Robb, Bran and Rickon. Ned came in sometime before dinner and sat down in his chair and he turned on the rugby match with no one complaining. He was silent as he watched – very unlike him since he constantly bellowed at the players during the match – and with him silent, they were all silent; all able to feel the anger radiating from his body. 

“Alright, listen,” Catelyn said, stepping into the den from the kitchen. “I have no idea how she managed it, but Arya has gotten Sansa to come downstairs. Everyone remember to-” she put her finger to her lips. 

They all tried to act as casually as possible as Arya came bounding into the room a moment later and seeing that the rugby match was on, she plopped herself down next to Bran on the floor. Sansa walked in a moment later, Lady at her side. Ned stood up at the sight of her and he enveloped her in a hug that completely swallowed her. He pressed his lips to her head for a moment and then whispered something in her ear that no one could hear besides Sansa. And at her father’s words, Sansa nodded and Ned kissed her head again, giving his arms a squeeze before letting her go. 

Jon had been watching, but he turned his head away, back to the television. The scene hurt to watch. 

“I’m going to walk Lady to the park before dinner,” Sansa said in a quiet voice that wasn’t hers. 

“Don’t go by yourself, dear,” Catelyn said, having overheard and had come back from the kitchen. “I’d feel much better if you had someone go with you.” 

Jon didn’t look at her – instead, keeping his eyes staring at the television though he wasn’t really watching. The urge to find Harry and beat him to a pulp was all, but pulsating in him right now. 

He expected Sansa to ask Robb to come with her. After all, Robb and Sansa had always been exceptionally close – first as small children and now as young adults. Robb was her protector – always had been – and right now, she would want her big brother to protect her once again. 

“Jon.”

Jon whipped his head over and looked at Sansa. 

“Will you come walk Lady with me?” She asked him. 

“Of course I will.”

He grabbed his sneakers and laced them on as quickly as he could. 

“Don’t be gone too long, you two,” Catelyn met them in the hallway as they slipped on their jackets to protect them from the cool fall early evening air. “Dinner’s going to be ready in about an hour.”

Sansa stepped to her mother then and slid her arms around her waist and Catelyn closed her eyes as if wanting to keep herself from crying and she wrapped her arms around Sansa’s shoulders, hugging her tight and close, pressing her lips to the side of her head much in the same way that Ned had. 

Jon didn’t watch and instead, occupied himself with clasping the leash onto Lady’s collar. 

Jon wondered if his father and Catelyn blame themselves. Knowing them, they probably did. Whatever had happened to make Sansa break the engagement obviously had been Harry’s fault and Ned and Catelyn had been the ones to orchestrate the betrothal all of those years ago between the two. And now, Sansa was completely heartbroken over something that she nor her parents were saying and this whole thing could have been maybe avoided if the Starks didn’t participate in the betrothal tradition that all of the greater Houses of Westeros participated in. 

Jon was smart enough to keep his opinions to himself. 

Outside, Jon and Sansa began walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Lady’s leash looped around Sansa’s wrist and the dog walking slowly in front of them as if she was feeding off her owner’s mood.

The sun was nearly gone from the sky and the streetlamps were beginning to flick on. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Sansa said quietly.

Jon looked at her. He knew that now wasn’t the appropriate time to think it, but she was so beautiful – even like this, with a broken heart clear on her face. 

“Of course,” he told her. “I’m wondering why you asked me though and not someone else.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t ask me about what happened,” was Sansa’s response. 

Jon nodded in agreement. “I won’t,” he assured her. “But I might. Some day.”

“And I might be able to talk about it. Some day.” 

They were quiet for the rest of their walk and when they reached the park at the end of the street, Sansa crouched down to unhook Lady’s leash. She kissed the dog and Lady gave her a lick on her chin before the dog turned and trotted towards a nearby tree. Sansa watched her, standing up again, and Jon stood at her side. They were quiet again. 

“Thank you for going to Harry’s flat today and getting my things,” Sansa then said softly. 

“It was no trouble,” he said honestly. “And Robb got to pee on Harry’s bed so that was a highlight.”

He considered it a personal triumph when the smallest smile began to grace across Sansa’s lips, and he nearly smiled, too, but then, her smile began to wane and in the growing darkness, he could see a fresh round of tears beginning to brim in her eyes. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly and he reached an arm around, sliding it around her shoulders, and Sansa didn’t try to protest or act strong. 

Instead, Sansa turned towards him and burying her face in his shoulder, she began crying, her body shaking and wracking with sobs in his arms. Jon closed his eyes and held her tight and turned his head, pressing his lips into her hair though he knew she didn’t notice as her crying grew only more intense. 

He hoped Catelyn kept their dinners warm for them because Jon knew they weren’t going to be back within the hour. Jon already knew that he wasn’t going to be letting go of Sansa anytime soon. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon's proposal to Sansa will be in the next chapter. Finally.


	9. A Lovely Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sansa, you’re happy, aren’t you?” Jon asked, not able to stop himself before he could. 
> 
> Sansa’s eyes widened ever so slightly with the unexpected question. 
> 
> “With me, I mean. You’re happy with me?” He stumbled over his words to get the question out.

…

Today had to go perfectly. There was no room for error. He was only going to get one shot at this and he couldn’t mess it up. Everything had to be perfect because perfection was exactly what Sansa deserved. 

She had already had one marriage proposal and after today, Jon didn’t want the memory of that one in her head. He wanted today to trounce all other memories still trapped in her head of her old engagement. In her mind, Jon wanted her to think of this one as the only one. That was if she said yes to his, of course.

Ned and Catelyn assured him that he didn’t have to worry when it came to Sansa’s answer. There was only one that she could possibly give, in their opinions. They saw their daughter with Jon all of the time and they made sure to tell Jon that they had never seen Sansa happier than when she was with him. She loved him and of course she was going to say ‘yes’ when he asked her to marry him. 

But even with her parents’ confidence, Jon was still unsure about the whole thing. She had already been engaged once and it had ended in disaster – to put it lightly. And though he and Sansa had been together for half a year now, in love with one another and happy with one another, perhaps not enough time had passed and Sansa wasn’t ready to get married. Jon knew that Sansa loved him, but perhaps, a part of her was still in love with Harry, too. She denied it when he asked, but still, Jon worried about it. 

Even with those thoughts in his mind though, Jon knew that he was going to propose to her today. Finally. Today, he was finally going to ask her to be his wife because being Sansa Stark’s husband was all he wanted in this world. The ring he had bought couldn’t stay another day in his messenger bag. 

Jon had spent the night at Sansa’s cottage – which had become the usual way of things; especially on Fridays which was when he had one late class – graduation couldn’t come soon enough – and he came over to find that she had already ordered dinner and was just waiting for it to arrive – usually Thai or pizza. She had also already stopped by his own flat after she finished at the elementary school to pick up Ghost and by the time Jon arrived at her home, Ghost and Lady were usually running around in the backyard, burning up the energy that had been pent-up from being inside all day.

“You’re the best,” Jon said once he had seen everything that she had done; that she always did for him.

And Sansa had just smiled, slipping her arms around his shoulders as he more than happily gave her a kiss. “I’m bribing you,” she then informed him. “I gave my class a quiz this morning on Robert’s Rebellion and I’m going to need your help with grading.”

“Robert’s Rebellion in third grade?” Jon asked, heading into her bedroom with Sansa following. 

Sansa shrugged at that. “It’s important to Westeros. We start them early. They learn far more about it in the older grades. We just teach the basics. Thank goodness. You know it’s not my strong suit,” she said as Jon began to change into the sweatpants and sweater he always kept at her house and Sansa picked up his jeans, folding them for him.

“You washed these,” Jon said, turning towards her, smelling the fabric softener coming off his clothes. 

“Of course,” Sansa smiled, folding his shirt next. “Relax Jon,” she laughed a little when she saw the way he was looking at her. “I threw them in when I was washing my own clothes. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She left the bedroom and Jon stayed behind, to pull on his thicker wool socks and to pull his hair back into the knot he usually wore it in when he was over here. By the time he came back into the living room, both of the dogs were inside now and their Thai take-away had arrived. They spent the evening on Sansa’s couch, eating and grading papers and telling one another about their days. 

And now, Saturday morning, Jon woke up in her bed and decided that he was going to propose today.

When he and Sansa slept, it wasn’t like it was in the movies. They weren’t constantly cuddling. When Jon woke up, he was on his back and Sansa was on her side, her back towards him. He could tell she was still sleeping from the deep, even inhales and exhales. He rolled onto his side and looked at the back of her head; the way her red hair flowed behind her onto her green pillowcase, the pale skin of her shoulder. The sweatshirts she slept in were always a little too large and they always slipped off her shoulder as she slept.

Today was going to be the day. He had no doubt in his mind. Fear and nerves, yes, but no doubt.

And he was going to start right now. 

As slowly as he could so not to wake her, Jon pulled himself from the bed, pulling the covers back over Sansa’s body and making sure she was covered and warm. He then first went into the bathroom and once finished in there, he went into the kitchen. Letting Ghost and Lady out into the backyard first, Jon then began moving around, gathering all of the things he would need to make Sansa breakfast. Breakfast in bed would be a good way to start the day he was going to propose. 

As he made Sansa’s cheese omelet – her favorite – Jon went over his plans to himself yet again. He had been doing this for weeks now and Catelyn and Ned, the only other people to know of the plans, had assured him that it was a great plan and that Sansa would love it. Jon wondered if when he proposed to Sansa later that day, she would silently be comparing it to Harry’s way of proposing to her. 

Jon exhaled a deep sigh, getting exhausted with himself. He was the one who kept thinking about that tosser. He was the one who kept comparing himself to her ex. As far as he knew, Sansa never thought of Harry. Not anymore. Not since Jon first kissed her and found himself completely lost to her. 

A pair of warm, familiar, slim arms slid around his waist from behind. 

“That smells delicious,” Sansa murmured sleepily into his ear. 

“You’ve ruined the surprise,” Jon said, flipping the omelet carefully over to its other side. 

“Have I?” Sansa smiled. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just taking care of you the way you take care of me,” Jon answered truthfully.

Sansa kissed the back of his neck and then slipped away from him to go and begin brewing a pot of coffee. “You don’t have to do that, Jon. I like taking care of you.”

Jon reached a hand out, her kitchen small enough where he could reach for her and find her hip, giving it a squeeze. Sansa turned her head and gave him the softest smile that made his chest ache. 

He could do it right now. He could tell her that he wanted this – this exact morning – every morning with her for the rest of his life. He could drop down to his knee and ask her to marry and it wouldn’t be at all what he had planned, but he knew that Sansa would love it nonetheless. 

“I like taking care of you, too,” he told her with a matching soft smile. 

No. He had a plan and he was sticking with it. 

“Well, then, I guess we’re pretty good together,” Sansa decided and Jon smiled a little bigger. 

Sansa let the dogs back into the kitchen and went to fill their bowls with fresh kibble and Jon finished one omelet and began frying himself some eggs in the same pan while popping bread slices into the toaster. 

Finally, they both sat down at the table across from one another and began eating their breakfast. 

“Perfect,” Sansa smiled at him after taking her first bite of omelet and Jon couldn’t help, but smile proudly.

“Do we have any particular plans today?” Jon asked after a moment passed of them eating. 

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t think so. I have to run to the market later for a few things. Did you want to do something particular today?” 

“I was thinking we could take Ghost and Lady to the park for a little bit,” he suggested. 

Sansa smiled. “Sounds good to me.” 

Jon smiled, too. First part of the plan had been successful. Now, onto the next. 

…

“Do you mind getting us some hot chocolate?” Jon asked as he reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans and handed her a few bills of currency. 

Sansa looked to the cart a few feet away, where the man who owned it was selling hot chocolate and roasted almonds. Despite the frigid temperatures and the snow on the ground, the park still saw quite a few people on a Saturday morning. The people of the North were not afraid of a little cold. 

“Of course. Almonds, too?” She asked, taking the money. 

“Almonds, too,” Jon gave a nod. 

Sansa smiled and stepped to him, pressing her lips to his. Jon instantly responded, pressing his lips to hers, loving how cold they felt against his and knowing that his were just as cold against hers. And he knew that Sansa was thinking the same thing because her lips curved into a small smile then and Jon found himself, smiling, too. He pulled his head back to look into her face. 

Her long red hair – pulled back into two braided pigtails – her blue eyes, her creamy, milky skin. She wore her heavy, thick parka with the fur around the hood and her hat, scarf and mittens all green and matching. 

He had looked at her so many times now, it would be impossible for him to keep count, but each time, she gave him a knot in his stomach and he wondered if she would always give that to him. He hoped so. He was more than ready to find out. 

“Sansa, you’re happy, aren’t you?” Jon asked, not able to stop himself before he could. 

Sansa’s eyes widened ever so slightly with the unexpected question. 

“With me, I mean. You’re happy with me?” He stumbled over his words to get the question out. 

“Yes,” Sansa answered immediately and he found himself actually relieved that she hadn’t seemed to need time to think about it. Had he thought that she would need time? “Of course I’m happy with you, Jon. I’ve never been this happy before. I didn’t know I could be this happy.” She paused to look over his own face, something dimming in her eyes. “Aren’t… aren’t you happy with me?” She asked and swallowed thickly. 

Jon instantly realized how she might interpret his question; and that was exactly how she was interpreting it. He swiftly cursed himself. 

“Christ, Sansa, me, too. I didn’t know I could be this happy,” he said and she seemed to sigh with relief and Jon lifted his gloved hands to her cheeks. “You know I don’t brood nearly as much as I used to.”

Sansa laughed at that and Jon cursed himself again when it looked as if she was about to start crying from her obvious relief. Hopefully, he’d be able to word the proposal a bit better. 

He leaned in and kissed her once again. “Hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate,” she nodded. 

She gave him a smile and then with his money, she turned and began heading to the cart. Lady was about to go trotting off after her – forever at her side – but Jon shave a sharp whistle, causing both Sansa and Lady to turn and look back to him. Jon was glad he was wearing a hat pulled down over his ears because if he wasn’t, he was fairly certain that Sansa would be able to see how red they were as he flushed. 

“I, um, I have a new tennis ball and was thinking she wanted to take a run at it with Ghost,” Jon explained.

Sansa laughed slightly and then leaned down, murmuring something to her dog that Jon couldn’t hear, and Lady came trotting back to him. Sansa smiled at him one more time and Jon was able to smile in return before Sansa turned and began, once again, towards the cart. Lady came back to him and Ghost and Jon dropped down to his haunches. 

“You’re part of the plan. Remember, Lady?” He spoke to her. “We’ve gone over the plan enough times now. Haven’t we?” He looked to both dogs now. 

There was one other person before her in the line at the hot chocolate cart and Sansa turned her head to watch Jon as she waited. He was crouched in front of their dogs, fiddling with their collars and then pulling a tennis ball from his pocket, he began examining it as if he had never seen a tennis ball before. He then began speaking to the dogs and they sat obediently and seemed to be listening to every word. 

Sansa smiled to herself as she watched. Jon was so good with Lady and Lady adored him in return. She knew it was probably silly to other people who didn’t have dogs, but it meant the world to Sansa that Jon seemed to love Lady as much as he loved his own dog. Lady was the world to her. After the whole heartbreak with Harry, she had had her family standing with her – of course – but only Lady knew just how long Sansa cried herself to sleep each night. Lady was protective of Sansa – having even growled at her siblings once or twice when she thought they were being too mean to Sansa – and had certainly not liked Harry. That should have been a huge sign to Sansa that she and Harry weren’t going to work and certainly weren’t meant to be. Lady had never wagged her tail at Harry. Not once. 

But with Jon, anytime he came over to see her – which was just about every night and weekends were usually always spent together now – Lady began cuddling with Jon as often as she did with Sansa. And Jon didn’t seem to mind in the least. He had no doubt that Sansa and Lady were a package deal and he never tried to separate them; just like he wouldn’t stand for someone trying to separate him and Ghost. 

It made Sansa warm inside to watch as Jon stood up and threw the tennis ball, both dogs running off after it. She liked being here – in the park on a cold Saturday morning with Jon and THEIR dogs. A family of four. What she had said to Jon was the truth. She had dreamt about it her whole life, but then Harry had happened and she didn’t know if she would ever actually have it. But here she was. She was so ridiculously happy and so ridiculously in love, sometimes, it almost didn’t feel real. 

Sansa purchased one large hot chocolate for her and Jon to share and a bag of toasted almonds. When she returned, Ghost and Lady were both trotting back, the tennis ball in Lady’s mouth. 

“Here you go,” Sansa smiled at Jon, handing him the cup and Jon smiled his thanks, kissing her temple. She then looked to Ghost, noticing something hanging from his collar. It looked like a tiny envelope and she bent over a little, trying to see it more clearly. “What’s this?” She asked and handed Jon the bag of almonds as well. Ghost sat there patiently as Sansa pulled her mittens off and slipped them into her coat pockets before gently pulling the envelope away that had been knotted to Ghost’s collar. 

She looked to Jon, her brow furrowed slightly, but Jon just shrugged. 

“I’m not too sure…” he began to say and Sansa straightened, turning the envelope over in her hand. It was white and tiny – the sort a person had to specifically buy special from a stationary store. 

She felt something tucked inside and carefully, she pulled back the flap and glanced inside to see what it was. She then turned the envelope over, the object dropping over in her hand. It was a metal dog tag – the sort she got from the Vet each year after Lady received her rabies shot – and Sansa’s confusion only grew as she turned it over to read what it said. 

GHOST  
IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO JON & SANSA SNOW

It then listed both Jon and Sansa’s cell phone numbers. 

Sansa stared at it for a moment, reading the words over and over again. Jon and Sansa Snow. Sansa Snow. 

Her heart began drumming in her chest and she slowly lifted her eyes from the tag to look at Jon, Jon not saying a word as he stared at her. She opened her mouth then to say something herself, but no words came out. Lady took that opportunity to gently drop the ball from her mouth and it rolled to Sansa’s boot. 

Sansa looked to her dog and Lady was wagging her tail, it sweeping across the ground, and her tongue was sticking out as if she was smiling up at Sansa. Sansa looked once more to Jon – he still watching her and not saying anything - and then bent down to pick up the tennis ball. 

She felt it instantly. There was something hard inside the ball and she noticed that there was a small slit that had been made along one of the ball’s seams for that something hard to be put inside. Still clutching the tag in her palm, Sansa – with her heart drumming in her throat – carefully pulled the tennis ball back at the tear in the seam to see what was inside. She gasped as she gently pried the small ring box out. 

She instantly spun to face to Jon just as he was getting down to one knee in front of her. He set the cup of hot chocolate and bag of almonds aside and at the sight of him, Sansa’s eyes began flooding with tears. He gave her a small smile and then reached up, taking the ring box from her hand and flipped it open himself, holding it up for her to see the diamond ring nestled inside. It wasn’t too big; not flashy and gaudy. It was almost on the small side as far as diamond engagement rings, but that didn’t matter to Sansa in the least because she saw that ring and knew that it was exactly the one she would have walked into the store and picked herself. 

“Sansa Stark,” was all he was able to get out. 

“Yes!” Sansa exclaimed, her voice echoing throughout the sky, and she rushed forward then, throwing her arms around his neck and tackling him to the snowy ground. Ghost and Lady began barking and excitedly pushing at them as Jon laughed, circling his arms around her and holding her on top of him, and Sansa began pressing kisses all over his face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she said over and over again. 

It was the best word in the world and she didn’t know if she would be ever able to say it enough times. 

Both were distantly aware that others who were in the park with them and had seen the proposal were now clapping for them and Sansa began laughing as tears leaked from her eyes, freezing on her cheeks, and Jon grinned – actually grinned – before putting a hand on the back of Sansa’s head and pulling her down for a kiss. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who are reading and leaving comments. I just absolutely love you.


	10. Wedding Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had been working on this for the past year. She truly was. So much of her life had been devoted to learning how to be a proper lady and the perfect wife. She loved Jon so much because he had told her more than once – countless times, really – that he didn’t need her to be like that. He just needed her.

…

 

Tonight’s party in the Stark family backyard was much different than the party they had held for their daughter’s first engagement the year before. There was a celebration, of course, but this was one much more low-key – Jon and Sansa insisted. And everyone was in agreement that this one was much better.

 

It was just Jon, Sansa, and the rest of the Stark family, enjoying a night’s cookout on the back deck. There was no band playing; no professional photographer; no friends of the family or distant relatives they hardly ever saw or business associates of Ned. Just the Stark family and their dogs. Jon and Sansa hadn’t even invited their friends, having already planned on a night out with them in a couple of weeks.

 

“I know you have been engaged for just a week now,” Catelyn said as she took her glass of wine and leaned back in her seat, smiling at Sansa. “But have you and Jon thought of anything yet?”

 

Sansa smiled at her mother in return and took a moment to finish chewing on the asparagus in her mouth and then swallowing. “Whatever Jon wants, but we were talking about perhaps having the ceremony at the lake house. It’s so beautiful on Long Lake and it’s secluded and Jon and I, well… we were hoping for just something quiet and intimate. The family could make a weekend of it.”

 

It went without saying that Sansa wanted absolutely nothing like the wedding she had been planning with Harry. From the moment their engagement was announced, the newspapers’ society pages had been covering it, already calling it the wedding of the year, even though it still hadn’t happened yet. Everything was going to be the finest of the finest and Sansa had gotten swept away in all of the expectations.

 

And though she knew that Jon would give her that type of wedding if that was what she wanted, Sansa knew that both she and him wanted something as far from that as possible. At least, she was fairly certain that he didn't want that. Ned and Catelyn had already said that due to their social standing in the North, there would be an engagement announcement made in the newspapers, but other than that, they were not holding Sansa – nor Jon – to any expectations. They had already done that to Sansa and they both still felt the guilt of it.

 

“Sounds perfect to me,” Arya jumped in, helping herself to another glass of wine, sitting on the other side of their mother. “A weekend of jet-skiing with a wedding thrown in.”

 

Sansa laughed. “Pretty much,” she agreed.

 

“I don’t see how that would be any problem,” Catelyn smiled.

 

Sansa glanced to Jon, standing at the grill with her father and Robb, and just looking at him, she felt a warmth that spread across her chest and she smiled.

 

She couldn’t believe how happy she was. A week after Jon proposed to her in the park, Sansa still felt as if her feet hadn’t quite touched the ground and she was fairly certain her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She honestly didn’t even know that a person could be this happy and a part of her was so tempted to give Harry a call and thank him for doing what he had done to her. If he hadn’t, she would have married him and would have thought that that had actually been love. She would have lived her entire life, never knowing what true love or true happiness was.

 

Jon had showed her those things and more. He showed her what it felt to be cherished; how it felt to be treated by a man as if she was truly the most important thing in the world. Jon could just look at her and not say anything or do anything and she just _knew_ that he loved her. She could always feel it. She wondered if it would still be like that between them once they had been married for as long as her parents. Sansa hoped so. Sansa didn’t doubt it.

 

Now, sensing her eyes on him, Jon turned his head away from the conversation he was engaged in with Ned and Robb and as soon as he saw her looking at him, he gave her a smile; one she happily returned.

 

Tonight, he wore blue jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his black curls were adorably tousled. The way that man could make her heart thump in her chest, it amazed her.

 

She remembered the last time she was in this backyard, celebrating an engagement. She had been dressed to the nines – with hair and makeup professionally done – and a dress that had cost far too much for one evening. For her second engagement party, Sansa sat at the patio table in black skinny jeans and an oversized blue sweater with her hair worn simple and down and Jon was looking at her as if she was still made up like she had been for the first party.

 

“Disgusting,” Arya muttered, but when Sansa looked at her, she could see her younger sister smiling.

 

Sansa smiled, too.

 

“Guests? How big were you thinking? Or have you thought about it?” Catelyn continued. “I’ll be surprised if you and Jon want something big.”

 

“Definitely not,” Sansa’s head shake was immediate. “Honestly, whoever Jon wants. All of us, obviously. And Jon will want Sam and Gilly there, I know. And I’ll want Myrcella there so that means that Tormund will be there. And then, I’m not sure. Uncle Benjen too, of course. Who else?”

 

“Aunt Lysa?” Catelyn suggested.

 

“Mom,” Arya gasped at the mere suggestion. “It’s Sansa’s _wedding_ day. You want Petyr there, lusting after her, on her _wedding_ day?”

 

Sansa did her best to not shudder.

 

“What? He’s gotten better,” Catelyn said, but then paused with a frown. “Hasn’t he?”

 

“No,” Sansa and Arya answered at the same time.

 

Catelyn’s eyes widened as she looked to Sansa. “Did he do something?” She asked, her voice both afraid of the answer and hard with her demanding to know the truth.

 

Sansa shook her head quickly. “No, no. He just…”

 

She took a deep breath, her skin breaking out into goose bumps at just the thought of her aunt’s husband. The man had never done anything to her _per se_ , but Sansa always got the feeling that he wanted to. The way he looked at her always made her want to take a scalding hot shower; his eyes slightly narrowed and his tongue practically licking his lips as if he was imagining her naked body beneath her clothes. Ever since she turned eighteen, she was very aware to never be alone with the man in the room.

 

Everyone in the family was aware of the way Petyr looked at Sansa – except Lysa, of course, who would never be able to see the slightest wrong in her beloved husband. Even Catelyn, after refusing to believe it at first, opened her eyes to it and saw it for herself, though she still could hardly believe that a man she had known since childhood would so obviously lust after her own daughter.

 

Whenever Lysa and Petyr came over – usually for Thanksgiving or Christmas – Catelyn made sure that Robb or Jon or any of the children, really, were Sansa’s shadow, never leaving her alone. It wasn’t as if she wanted to ever put her daughter in a vulnerable position in her own home, but she knew that she wanted to have a relationship with her sister and Catelyn supposed she just still couldn’t believe that Petyr would actually do anything to act upon his disgusting desire.

 

“Sansa, did he do something?” Catelyn was sitting up in her seat now, staring at Sansa.

 

“Did who do what?” Jon asked, coming to sit down in the empty seat next to Sansa, a beer in his hand.

 

“No, mom. I promise,” Sansa shook her head quickly. “He just makes me uncomfortable.”

 

“We’re not inviting Petyr Baelish to our wedding, Aunt Catelyn,” Jon informed the older woman, needing to just hear what Sansa had said to already know what was being discussed between them.

 

Sansa turned her head to see that Jon was frowning fiercely and Sansa slid her hand over, resting her hand over his. Jon turned his hand over then so their fingers could lace together.

 

“I know, I know,” Catelyn assured them both. “We were just talking about possible guest lists.”

 

“That’s not a possible guest list,” Jon said, still frowning.

 

Sansa gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to invite Myrcella, but I don’t think I want to invite any of the other teachers from school. I mean, they’re all perfectly nice and I like them, but Myrcella is my best friend so that’s why she’s coming, but I don’t think I’m close enough to any of the others to invite them. Did you want to invite any friends from school?” She asked him.

 

Jon was quiet, thinking that over. He took a sip of his beer. “With Sam, Gilly and Tormund there, that will be enough. And then everyone here tonight and Uncle Benjen.”

 

Sansa smiled at him as he said that. “Exactly who I was thinking,” she said and Jon gave her his own smile.

 

“Seriously,” Arya said. “Absolutely disgusting. Have you two always been like this and we just never noticed it? This in _sync_?” She asked it as if the words were dirty, her nose wrinkled up, and though she had gotten used to Jon and Sansa’s relationship – finally – she was still getting used to just how good they were while together and how good they were for each other.

 

Jon and Sansa didn’t answer. They knew the answer was probably “no”, but they liked to think otherwise.

 

“What about a wedding dress? Will you wear one?” Catelyn asked, splitting the remaining wine in the bottle between hers and Arya’s glasses.

 

Sansa opened her mouth to answer, but Jon spoke first.

 

“Of course you’ll wear a wedding dress,” he frowned a little. “Why wouldn’t you?”

 

Sansa gave him a smile and shook her head. “I was telling mom that we just wanted a casual wedding at Long Lake. I wasn’t sure how casual though.”

 

“I don’t care if everyone else is wearing jeans. I’m wearing a tux and you’re wearing a wedding dress,” Jon told her, still frowning at what she was saying.

 

“Sounds like the perfect wedding to me,” Arya nodded with approval.

 

“Sansa, you’ve been planning your wedding since you were thirteen,” Jon said to her.

 

“I don’t want _that_ wedding, Jon. You know that,” Sansa said, beginning to frown herself.

 

“Don’t worry, you two,” Catelyn jumped in before anything could escalate. “You’ve only been engaged for a week. There’s plenty of time for discussing plans and what you both want.” She stood up then. “Arya, will you come help me with the cake inside?”

 

Normally, Arya would raise some sort of protest before obeying her parents, but tonight, able to send something building between Jon and Sansa, she nodded without argument and got to her feet, taking a gulp from her wine glass and taking both her glass and the empty bottle with her.

 

Sansa and Jon hardly noticed their departure as they continued staring at one another.

 

“Jon, stop,” Sansa said. “I don’t want doves or stupid ice sculptures or to walk down the aisle with a string quartet accompanying me.”

 

“Are you seriously thinking that you wouldn’t wear a wedding dress on _our_ wedding day? You’d wear one for Harry and your wedding to him, but not when you marry me?”

 

Sansa’s mouth fell open at that, taken slightly aback by his words, and she realized that she wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “Jon,” she said his name – at least able to say that word. “Of course I’ll wear a wedding dress on our wedding day. I would _love_ to wear a wedding dress. I just know that we wanted something small and casual-”

 

“Not that casual, Sansa. Christ,” Jon muttered and pulled his hand from hers.

 

He stood up, draining the rest of the beer from the bottle in his hand before heading over to the built-in bar on the patio to get himself another. Sansa didn’t hesitate in following after him. Robb and Jeyne were there, getting themselves another drink as well, and Robb took Jon’s empty bottle before handing him another one. Jon didn’t hesitate in taking a long guzzle of it.

 

“Robb, Jeyne, would you please excuse us?” She asked while staring at Jon and nothing, but Jon.

 

Robb opened his mouth to say something, but Jeyne wisely grabbed her fiancé’s hand and tugged him away before he could, leaving Jon and Sansa alone once more.

 

“Stop, Jon,” Sansa said, her voice quiet, but it did not lose any of the demanding tone she was using.

 

“Stop what?” Jon asked, putting his beer down on the bar top, nearly slamming it down. “Stop expecting my fiancée to wear a wedding dress when we get married?”

 

“Yes! I already told you that I’ll wear a dress. I don’t understand why you’re picking a fight. I didn’t _know_ you wanted a wedding like that. I was just thinking of the wedding that would make you happy!”

 

“Stop that right fucking now, Sansa,” Jon all, but growled and she nearly took a step back at the sudden anger she saw in his eyes, but she didn’t. She knew if she did, Jon’s reaction would be devastating. She had never been afraid of Jon and she wasn’t now, but if she acted like she was – for even a second – Jon would never forgive himself. Instead, she stood her ground and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t do what you think I want. This is your wedding, too. How about we plan what we both want?”

 

“I am-” she began to say, but Jon swiftly cut in.

 

“No. You’re doing with me what you did with Harry. You’re doing what you think I want and you’re doing anything that you think will make me happy.”

 

“What’s wrong with a wife wanting to make sure her husband is happy?” Sansa questioned honestly. She had been wanting to be a wife for so long and that was one of the first lessons she had learned. A wife’s duty was to make sure her husband’s happiness was her top priority.

 

Sensing her genuine confusion, Jon took a deep breath, calming himself down. He then took both of her hands in his and gently pulled her forward until their fronts nearly touched.

 

“We’re building a life together. You and me, Sansa. And I want to know every single opinion of yours. Your true opinion. Not just what you think I want. _That_ is what would make me happy,” he said. “And once we know each other’s opinions, we’ll see how in sync we are,” he added and Sansa nearly wanted to smile at that, but she admitted that her head was still reeling a bit.

 

“I…” she began to say, but then stopped herself.

 

She had been working on this for the past year. She truly was. So much of her life had been devoted to learning how to be a proper lady and the perfect wife. She loved Jon so much because he had told her more than once – countless times, really – that he didn’t need her to be like that. He just needed her.

 

“I want to wear a wedding dress,” Sansa admitted.

 

“And I want to see you walking down the aisle, walking to _me_ , wearing a wedding dress,” Jon said and Sansa smiled just at the picture that made in her mind. “What else?” He asked.

 

Sansa thought it over for a moment. “I don’t want a string quartet, but I…” she paused again and Jon lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before his hand lingered on her cheek. “I would like a lone cello player,” she said and Jon smiled a little at that.

 

“Sounds good to me. A cello for the wedding ceremony and Rickon’s already asked if he could be a DJ for the reception,” Jon said with a slight chuckle.

 

Sansa smiled at that, too. “That actually sounds perfect.”

 

“I agree,” Jon nodded. “See? You tell me what you think and we’re still…” he leaned his mouth in towards hers. “In sync,” he whispered and Sansa broke into a smile seconds before he kissed her. “But I really don’t want doves or ice sculptures or Petyr Baelish there, but if you do, we’ll work out a compromise,” Jon said and she laughed at that, her arms sliding around his waist, his face staying close to hers and as she laughed, he smiled.  

 

“No doves, ice sculptures and definitely no Petyr Baelish,” she said in complete agreement. “But… I always imagined a chocolate fountain at my wedding reception, but I didn’t know if that was too clichéd or not.”

 

“If a chocolate fountain is what you want, I’m getting you a whole fucking chocolate pool,” Jon promised and Sansa let out another laugh before he kissed her once again and pulled her in as tight to him as she could be.

 

…


End file.
